


Walk Again

by o_rcrist



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Denial, Hurt/Comfort, LITERALLY, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Thorin's not coming through this in one piece, medical gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin survives the Battle of Five Armies, but not all in one piece. A brutal recovery as well as relearning everything he thought he once knew will take it's toll. It's a good thing he has a fussy hobbit to help him through it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a tumblr post I saw by farashasilver on tumblr, who did a detailed depiction of just how long it would actually take Thorin to recover from the injuries he sustained during the battle.

Bilbo cringed as he wiped the sweat from Thorin's forehead. His fever refused to break, the puncture wound in his foot having become infected. It was a growing concern for Oin, who was desperately trying to save Thorin from losing his foot, consulting old tomes in the library and the elves. Nothing was working. Thorin coughed, wincing as the movement jarred his still healing ribs.

“Easy,” Bilbo softly said. “Try not to move if you can.”

Thorin groaned, his eyes opening briefly as he looked around him. His eyes were cloudy, unable to focus on anything in particular. He closed them as his vision swam in front of him, turning his face into his sweat-drenched pillow.

“Why.....why aren't I getting....better?” His words were slightly slurred, leaving Thorin short of breath as they cost him what little energy he had.

Bilbo frowned, his worry growing more. “The wound in your foot is infected. We're doing everything we can to stop it.” He had told Thorin this every day for three days. The fever was beginning to affect Thorin's mind. Oin had said he would only have a few days to find a solution before he had no choice but to amputate the lower part of Thorin's leg. Bilbo feared that their time had run out.

“It's been.....to long.”

Bilbo nodded even though Thorin couldn't see it. He dipped the cloth he was using in the bowl of water on the table beside them, wringing it out and bathing Thorin's forehead with the cool water. “I know. Oin wants to make sure he's tried everything.”

Thorin shook his head. “He....he needs to do it.” His breathing was becoming more labored as he struggled to say something. “Please...”

Bilbo gently shushed him. “Save your strength Thorin. Let us worry about you. You need to rest.” Thorin had no energy or strength left to argue, sinking into his pillows as sleep claimed him. Bilbo put the cloth down in the bowl, taking a deep breath as he looked at the blankets covering Thorin's lower half. Letting it out slowly, he carefully pulled the blankets back until he could see Thorin's injured foot and it was already a gruesome sight. Blood had seeped through the bandages once again, which he carefully cut away to reveal the wound. Thorin's right foot was so swollen the stitches were cutting into his skin, the blood so dark it was nearly black as it slowly leaked from the wound.

Sepsis.

Most dwarves had a natural immunity to it, but with the severity of Thorin's injuries Oin had feared it would set in. The rest of the Company had held out the hope that he would escape that fate like the lads had, but it seemed their King would have no such luck.

Bilbo cursed under his breath, silently begging to Mahal and Yavanna to reverse this. Thorin had been through so much in his life and he'd finally succeeded in taking his home back. Why would they allow this?

“I fear that they care very little for us,” a sad voice murmured.

Bilbo looked up, finding Balin standing on the other side of Thorin's bed. “They should. They made us.”

“They will do as they please. They made us who we are, but we are expected to take care of ourselves. We are not men. We are not weak. We can fight for ourselves when we have to.”

Thorin coughed again, Bilbo immediately rubbing the dwarfs knee to calm him down. He looked back at Balin once Thorin had settled back into sleep, knowing the old dwarf was here for one reason. “What has Oin decided to do?”

Balin's shoulders sagged as he looked at Thorin, feeling the full weight of his two centuries. In front of him was his king, his own cousin, his oldest friend. They had been through countless adventures together and it pained him more than he had ever known to see Thorin brought so low.

“Oin can't save his leg.”

Bilbo closed his eyes as he let Balin's words sink in. They were both silent for several minutes as they processed the knowledge that Thorin would soon lose his leg.

Bilbo asked the question he dreaded the most. “When?”

“Tonight. At the forges.”

Bilbo looked at Balin. “Why the forges?”

The old dwarf shook his head. “It's best you don't know laddie. The procedure will be gruesome and let us leave it at that.”

“If you think for even one moment I will not be there when this happens, you are woefully mistaken.” Bilbo glared at Balin as he let his words sink in. “I have stood by all of you this entire Quest and I will stand by you all through this.”

Balin sat down in one of the many chairs in the room, his face full of sorrow. “Bilbo, please. It is best if you do not witness this. Hobbits aren't meant to see such bloody ordeals.”

Bilbo was seething by this point. “I believe _I_ am the only Hobbit in Erebor, so _I_ will decide just what this Hobbit will and will not see. I have become more than accustomed to blood or have you so easily forgotten that I fought in the battle as well?”

“Careful with your tone Bilbo, we are all friends here,” Balin warned him.

“If we are friends then you will tell me exactly why you do not want me with you when you do this to Thorin,” Bilbo demanded. “And don't you dare tell me that it's some dwarven secret. I've spent the greater part of a year with you. I'd like to think that we've come to know each other well enough for me to permitted to know some of your secrets.”

He glared at Balin as the old dwarf thought, Bilbo's hands shaking in fury. As Balin remained silent, Bilbo decided to ignore him and instead carefully cleaned Thorin's wound, despite how it was now a useless measure.

“I did not mean to anger you Bilbo,” Balin said quietly. “This is a difficult situation. The lads are unable to stand in as King right now. Dain is still here, acting as regent until they are back on their feet. He does not want the throne, but many of his men are pressuring him to take it while he can.”

“You fear that something will happen tonight,” Bilbo stated.

Balin nodded. “We fear many things will happen tonight. Guards will be at the forge with us as well as Dain, we cannot stop that. Dwalin has refused to put any of Dain's men on guard for Fili and Kili though. He fears a coup. Instead, he will stand guard over them.”

Bilbo slowly redressed the wound, watching helplessly as blood once again stained the bandages. “That does not explain why you do not want me there.”

“Dwalin wants you to stand guard over the lads with him.”

Bilbo looked up, surprised at such a statement. “Why me? Surely Bifur or Gloin would be a better option. I have no formal weapons training. I've gotten by on pure luck.”

“Because the lads trust you. They won't suspect anything is amiss if you are with them.”

Everything suddenly made sense. “You haven't told them?! Why?”

Balin's face was full of guilt as he fiddled with a ring on his finger. “Oin thinks it is for the best.”

  
“How on earth does he think that is for the best?” Bilbo gritted out. “Thorin is their Uncle. Their _family_. They have a right to know! Not to mention that if Thorin does not survive this Fili will be King. They have a right to know what is going on!”

Balin held up his hands in surrender. “I agree with you in all regards but Oin's decision is final. He's worried it will slow their own healing.”

“Bollocks! This is ridiculous Balin. Fili was up and walking around yesterday. Kili is days away from doing the same. They are both well on their way to a full recovery.”

“Which is _why_ I want you with them. By dwarven custom, none of us can override Oin's decisions.”

“And I am a Hobbit,” Bilbo murmured, realization dawning on him. “I am bound by no such custom. You want me to tell them? Won't Dwalin stop me?”

Balin shook his head. “He wants to tell them. He loves those boys above all else, except Thorin. But he is bound by his duty and will not disobey Oin.”

Bilbo shook his head in disbelief. “You stubborn dwarves. I will stand guard with Dwalin, but I will escort Thorin to the forges first. As soon as he's back in his rooms I want to know.”

Balin nodded in agreement. “I expected nothing less.”

Thorin groaned in his sleep, weakly moving his legs as he tried to get more comfortable. Bilbo stood up, gently putting pressure on Thorin's lower half to still him. Thorin groaned again at the pressure, trying to dig his feet into the bed to get away from it. He hissed as he put weight on his injured foot, his eyes opening at the intense pain. “Bilbo?” he murmured. “What's.....happening?”

Bilbo looked to Balin, unsure of what to say for the first time in days. Balin gave him a small, sad nod in response.

“Nothing's happening right now Thorin,” Bilbo said softly as sat down beside Thorin.

“You...you were arguing.”

Bilbo nodded. “Aye, we were. But it was just a misunderstanding.”

Thorin took a deep breath, trying to regain his strength so he could continue talking. “What's happening? You're....not telling me something.”

Balin sat down on the bed beside Thorin as well, gently squeezing his cousins hand. Thorin slowly looked over at Balin, giving him a weak smile in greeting before he looked back to Bilbo. “Tell me, Bilbo.”

He took a deep breath as he took Thorin's hand in his own, unsure of how Thorin would react to this news. “Oin.....he can't save your leg Thorin. He's tried everything but nothing has worked.” Bilbo swallowed heavily, his voice becoming thick. “If he waits any longer, you'll die.”

Thorin nodded slowly, his eyes closing. “He has to do.....what he has to.”

“Can you still hear us laddie?” Balin asked softly. “Just nod if you want to. You don't have to talk anymore.”

Thorin nodded in response, turning his head so that he was facing Balin. “We'll take you down to the forges later tonight. Bilbo's going to come with us, but then he's going to leave to be with the lads.”

Thorin let out a distressed sound, his eyes opening to look at Balin. He quickly smiled at Thorin and further explained, “He'll be back as soon as you're back in your rooms. We don't want the lads to be alone during this. The rest of the Company will be in the forges with you.”

Thorin nodded again, his eyes slipping shut once more. “Rest while you can Thorin. Oin will bring you something soon to make you sleep through this. When you wake the worst will be over.” With that Balin stood up, carefully pulling the blankets back over Thorin before he left.

Bilbo watched Thorin with a heavy heart, all of the possible 'what ifs' running through his brain without check. He once again picked up the cloth from the bowl, wringing it out and bathing Thorin's forehead with the cool water. It was a futile attempt to keep his fever down, but he would do it until it was time for them to take Thorin down to the forges. He needed to keep himself busy to keep himself sane.

He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that at Thorin's side since no sunlight reached the rooms they were currently in. At one point he briefly stopped, putting the cloth aside to instead carefully brush Thorin's hair, gently getting out the knots and gathering it up into a single thick sleep braid. It would need to be out of the way anyway.

Thorin murmured in his sleep sometimes, but Bilbo understood very little of what he said since it was dwarvish. He occasionally heard Thorin say his nephews' names, as well as that of his sister and father. He sometimes said another name, but Bilbo did not know who it belonged to.

After what felt like hours, Oin finally came, Dwalin and Balin coming in behind him. Bilbo gently woke Thorin, telling him what was going on as he looked around blearily. Thorin nodded and allowed Oin to pour the medicine down his throat. He coughed as he swallowed it down, Bilbo and Dwalin immediately propping him up so that he didn't choke. It only took twenty minutes for the medicine to take effect, Thorin's eyes drifting shut as Bilbo held his hand.

“Let's get this over with,” Oin said, his voice almost detached. He called out for the guards in the halls to come in, four of them holding a stretcher between them. Dwalin, Oin, and Bilbo carefully guided Thorin onto it, Bilbo tucking the blankets back around Thorin when they were done. Erebor was only currently inhabited by soldiers, but he would be damned if he let Thorin look weaker than he was in front of them. Dwalin walked with them to the edge of the hall, squeezing Thorin's shoulder before he turned away to go to the lads' room.

The rest of them slowly walked down to the forges, the heat so strong it could be felt halfway across the mountain. They walked through the ruined gates, still lying half on their sides from when Smaug had destroyed them in his rampage. Oin led the way to a vicious looking contraption near the edge of the forge and Bilbo grimaced. It was a sheet of metal attached to a pulley system, the edge sharpened. The metal was red hot.

He struggled to stop the shake in his voice as he asked, “That's what you're going to use?”

Balin nodded, his face grim. “It amputates and cauterizes at the same time. Thorin cannot afford any more blood loss at this point.”

“You're sure he won't feel this?”

Balin audibly swallowed. “I pray to Mahal he will not.”

The guards set Thorin down right before the contraption, the Company somberly coming to stand beside Thorin. Dain slowly walked up, squeezing his cousin's shoulder as his face was filled with sadness. “Pull through this 'ey cousin. I did it. I've never know ye to allow me to beat ye in anything.”

Balin put his hand on Bilbo's shoulder and gave Bilbo a nod. “You've done you're part. Go be with the lads. I'll come get you once we've got him back in his rooms.”

Bilbo nodded, unable to form words at this point. He gave Thorin a long look before he forced himself to turn away and walk back up to the lads' room.

Fili and Kili both looked up as Bilbo shut the door behind him and leaned on it heavily. “Bilbo,” Fili asked tiredly, “What's going on? Dwalin won't tell us.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Bilbo?” Kili asked hesitantly when Bilbo remained silent.

Bilbo walked over to Fili who was sitting in front of the fire and offered him his hand. Fili groaned as he forced himself out of his chair, taking Bilbo's hand to pull himself up. “To the bed,” Bilbo ordered. Fili nodded, slowly walking over to it. Bilbo was pleased to see that he was regaining his strength, his steps more sure and steady.

Fili sat down, leaning back into the mounds of pillows on the massive bed. Kili had sat up, despite the obvious discomfort it was causing him. Bilbo looked to Dwalin, who was standing near the doors, his axes in hand. The old dwarf nodded in silent approval.

“Bilbo?”

He looked back to the boys, their faces full of worry. Fili gave him a pleading look. “Bilbo please tell us what's going on. Is Uncle okay?”

Bilbo shook his head sadly. “No Fili, he's not.”

Both boys surged forward as if to try and get out of bed. Bilbo grabbed them both and held them back with all of his strength. “Boys, please calm down!”

“We have to get to Uncle Thorin!” Kili said, straining to get away from Bilbo.

“You'll never reach him before they do what they must,” Bilbo stated, trying to force the boys to look at him.

“What are they doing?” Fili demanded to know, giving up on trying to get out of bed.

“The wound in his foot is infected. It's turned into sepsis.”  
Kili desperately looked at his brother. “But...but we're immune to that. All dwarves are.” Fili looked just as confused, taking his brother's hand in his own to try and comfort him.

“Dwalin, what are you and Bilbo hiding from us?” Fili asked desperately.

“I can nae tell you lad, but Bilbo can,” Dwalin answered, his own heart aching at the lads' distress.

“Why can't you tell us Dwalin?” Kili asked, his voice shaking.

Bilbo answered for him. “Because Oin's orders were that you weren't supposed to know. Dwalin and the rest of the Company are bound by your customs to obey his orders. I am not.”

The lads were clearly becoming more and more distressed and Dwalin couldn't bear to watch it anymore. “For Mahal's sake just tell them what is happening Bilbo! Before they try to get out of bed and find Thorin themselves.”

Bilbo took a deep breath and looked at the lads. “Oin couldn't stop the infection. They took Thorin down to the forges a little while ago. He's going to lose part of his leg.”

Sorrow engulfed the lads' faces as they looked at each other, looking as if they were shrinking in on themselves. Kili leaned against his brothers' side, the sheer shock rendering him unable to speak.

“Will Uncle be okay?” Fili asked quietly as he hugged his brother.

Bilbo nodded. “Oin won't let him die. This will stop the infection from spreading.”

Loud shouts came from down the hall and Dwalin held up his axes, taking a fighting stance. The door was securely locked, but he would take no chances with the lads.

Bilbo stood up, drawing Sting from its sheath and standing in front of the boys protectively.

“What's going on?” Fili demanded to know.

“Thorin's indisposed, you and Kili are just starting to recover. Dain might not want the crown, but he's under pressure to take it,” Dwalin explained with a growl.

“Dain's acting as regent only until I can assume Uncle's tasks,” Fili stated, trying to get out of bed as he reached for his swords.

The shouting was coming closer. “Aye he is, but even a dwarf such as he can fall to the pressure of his generals.”

“A coup,” Kili whispered.

“That's what we fear,” Bilbo said. He looked at Fili. “You're both too weak to fight. Is there somewhere in these rooms you can hide? A secret passage, room? Anything?”

“We won't hide like cowards!”

“You will live,” Dwalin growled as he looked over his shoulder. “Fili, get you and your brother to safety. Do not come out unless Mr. Baggins or I tell you 'The Shire is safe'. Now!”

Fili hauled himself out of bed, wincing as he helped Kili up and taking his brothers' weight as they stumbled toward a thick tapestry at the far wall. “Bilbo, pull this aside,” Fili grunted.

He pulled it aside, revealing a solid wall. “Fili, their's nothing.....”

Fili muttered a word in Khuzdul, the wall silently opening into a hidden dark room.

“...here,” Bilbo finished weakly. “Get inside.” He grabbed a torch off of the wall, handing it to Fili so that they might have some light while they waited. “No matter what happens, do not come out unless you receive the all safe.”

They both nodded, sinking to the ground as Fili could no longer hold up his brothers weight. Fili gave Bilbo a nod as he shoved the door shut with his foot. The door sealed, leaving to trace whatsoever that it had ever been there. The shouting was just outside the lads' doors and Bilbo frantically pulled the tapestry back into place. A loud knock on the door made them both wince.

“Who's there?” Dwalin demanded to know, his grip on his axes tightening.

“Open this door cousin!” Dain roared. “We will have words now!”

Dwalin and Bilbo exchanged a look, Bilbo unsure of what to do. Dain was a good dwarf from what Gandalf had told him, but his temper was something fierce. “Would he hurt the lads?” Bilbo asked quietly.

Dwalin shook his head. “No, he loves them dearly. But I fear the reason why he is here. He should still be down in the forges.”

Dwalin carefully lowered his axes, slowly unlocking the door and opening it slightly. He was met with Dain's angry face, two guards behind him. “You can come in cousin, but your guards must remain outside.”

“Ye don't trust my men?” Dain asked angrily, his face starting to turn a dark shade of red.

“I don't trust anyone right now,” Dwalin answered, meeting Dain's fierce glare with one of his own.

Dain looked ready to explode but entered the room alone. Dwalin locked the door behind him without letting Dain leave his sight. Dain glared at Bilbo, growling dangerously. “Lower your sword, we are not enemies.”

“I do not take orders from dwarves,” Bilbo replied, his voice low and determined. “Especially ones who I believe threaten my friends.”

“Threaten?!” Dain roared. “Remember that I am the one who saved your lives! If I had not arrived with _my_ dwarves from the Iron Hills, you would have all been slaughtered in these halls!” He took a step towards Bilbo, who boldly took a step forward, unknowingly challenging Dain.

Dwalin forced himself between the two of them, forcing Bilbo's sword down and Dain back.

“Enough!” Dwalin ordered. “Dain, _what_ are ye doing here?”

Dain glowered at Bilbo as he answered. “Ye don't trust me. None of yer Company do. Ye think I'm planning a coup; that I'd take my cousins, _my kings_ , throne during this....nightmare! What gives ye the right to think such a thing? And to allow this halfling to challenge _me_? I am the Lord of the Iron Hills!”

“Where were you when Thorin called for aid?” Bilbo demanded angrily. “I recall that you refused to help him. A dwarf lord with armies at his back, too scared to leave his mountain.”

Dwalin had to hold back Dain as he tried to grab Bilbo. “ _Bilbo shut up_! Yer not helpin'!” Bilbo continued to glare at Dain but took a step back. “Cousin, calm yourself now!”

Dain gave Bilbo a murderous glare, but he to took a step back. “Dwalin, explain your actions _now_.”

Dwalin crossed his arms, glaring his cousin down. “I can't trust ye or any of your men. You have armies at your back, we number thirteen. Ye may not want the throne, but I know many of your generals want you to take it. Rumors travel fast here. Thorin and the lads' protection is my top priority and it always will be.”

Dain looked around the room, realizing for the first time that neither Fili and Kili were present. “Where are they?” he demanded to know.

Dwalin remained silent, refusing to answer.

“I demand that ye tell me where they are!” Dain ordered. “They are my family just as much as yours.”

Bilbo shared a look with Dwalin, but they both refused to answer.

Dain growled, unbuckling his sword belt and throwing it at Dwalin's feet. He produced two daggers from his sleeves and threw them down as well. “I am unarmed and I bear them no ill intentions, now tell me where my cousins are!”

Dwalin stepped forward, kicking the weapons behind him so that Bilbo could pick them up.

“Why do you want to know?”

Dain threw up his hands in frustration, falling back into a chair behind him. “Because they are my family. They are my cousins. Because I need to know they are safe. That if Thorin does not survive this I need to make sure Fili takes the throne and that Kili stays safe as well. Those lads were the first blessing this family received after decades of sorrow and death. I will not see them fall.”

Dwalin continued to stand there, his arms crossed as he watched Dain carefully. The great dwarf sighed, slumping back further in his chair. “Please cousin, just tell me they are alive. That they are safe.”

Bilbo stepped forward, looking at Dwalin, but his face was unreadable. Bilbo knew they were at a disadvantage, that if Dain called for his guards they would stand no chance. He had his magic ring, so he might be able to escape, but the lads had no way out of that room. They would be trapped.

After several tense minutes, Dwalin broke the silence. “Injure them, and you will never leave this room alive.”

Dain nodded, knowing Dwalin would have no reservations about killing him to protect the lads.

“The Shire is safe,” Dwalin called out loudly. Bilbo looked at him in surprise, before rushing to move the tapestry. As he did he watched the door appear once more, slowly opening to reveal an exhausted Fili and Kili curled up on the floor. Fili was sitting against the wall, Kili halfway in his lap. Kili was breathing heavily, one of his arms wrapped around his chest, his face filled with pain.

“Oh lad,” Bilbo murmured, kneeling down to check Kilis forehead for a fever. “What's wrong?”

Fili answered for him. “It was too much.”

Bilbo nodded, carefully helping Kili into a seated position and pulling the lad's free arm over his shoulders. “We're going to get up nice and slow. Lean on me as much as you can.”

Kili nodded, gritting his teeth as Bilbo got them up. He had to put most of his weight on Bilbo, the burning sensation in his chest taking away what little strength he had. Fili got up and walked in behind them. Dain shot out of his chair when he saw the lads condition but was held back by Dwalin.

Bilbo got Kili back into bed, pulling the strings on the lads' shirt loose to check the bandages underneath. No blood had seeped through thankfully, so it was possible that the sudden movement had simply aggravated it. “Do you think it tore open Kili?”

Kili shook his head, gritting his teeth. “No, but it feels like I just got stabbed all over again.”

Bilbo looked back down to the wrapped wound. “Rest for a while. If it doesn't stop we'll send for Oin and have him look at it. Fili, get into bed.”

Fili looked up in surprise from the chair he was lowering himself into.

“Do as Bilbo says,” Dwalin told him.

Fili nodded, slowly walking over to the bed and climbing in beside Kili. He realized as he did that Dwalin and Bilbo were purposefully putting themselves between them and Dain. A barrier, just in case. His fingers itched for one of his daggers.

“Why aren't you down with Uncle right now,” Fili asked as he slumped into his pillows. “You were supposed to be with him the entire time.”

“I watched them take his leg,” Dain answered gruffly. “I couldn't stay after that. It's a pain I've been through, but I could not endure watching Oin doin' what he had to.”

All of them flinched, silence taking the room as they all mourned Thorin's loss.

“What do you mean a pain you have been through?” Bilbo asked, finally sheathing his sword.

Dain turned his ever-present glare to Bilbo. “I lost my own leg years ago. It's a pain I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy.”

“Why come to us,” Fili asked.

“Because should Thorin not make it, ye are the King of Durin's folk,” he answered solemnly. “I have a duty to make sure ye are safe and take the throne.”

“You are regent while we heal,” Fili countered.

“Aye. _Regent_. I have no intentions of becoming King in my lifetime and my regency is only in effect while Thorin heals. Should he fall, ye become King and ye will choose your own regent. Regardless, I need to make sure that ye remain safe at all costs.”

Fili nodded, turning his gaze to Kili who still looked to be in a great deal of pain. “Would it help if you were on your side?” he asked quietly. Kili nodded tiredly, trying to turn himself before Bilbo stopped him.

“Hold steady for a moment.” He grabbed some pillows, shoving them between the lads before he carefully helped Kili turn onto his side into the pillows. Kili grabbed one and held it close to his chest, his pain slowly starting to go away.

Bilbo sat on the edge of the bed, keeping a careful eye on the lads. Dwalin finally stepped back, sitting in a chair opposite of Dain.

“Ye really think I could hurt them,” the dwarf lord asked quietly, his words for Dwalin only. “I was there at their first birthdays, when Thorin named them his heirs, when they received their first weapons. I love them as I love my own son.”

Dwalin felt no guilt. It was a sad requirement of his duty to them; he would never question his gut. “I don't think ye would ever do it intentionally but I have to consider every possibility.”

Dain nodded sadly. “Aye, that's what I thought.” He looked at the door. “It won't be long before they bring Thorin back to his rooms. He's going to be in a rough shape for a while. This isn't an injury one can just bounce back from.”

Bilbo slowly approached the pair, wary of Dain's temper. “I'll be with him while he heals. He won't ever be alone.”

Dain gave Bilbo an unreadable look. “Let me give you some advice _halfling_ : You'll need to leave him alone eventually, for his own sanity. Hovering just makes it worse. Feeling everyone's pity will drive ye mad.”

Bilbo simmered at the halfling remark. “I'll take your advice if you stop calling me 'halfling'. I am half of _nothing_.”

Dain opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door and several words of Khuzdul. Dwalin ran to wrench the door open, admitting Balin, who looked as if he had aged decades in the last hour.

Fili sat up in bed, his heart pounding. “Uncle?”

“He lives.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lot's of things happening in this chapter here. Thorn's in for a rough time.

He could hear voices around him, but they were muddled and sounded as if they were far away. All Thorin knew was that he was in pain, thirsty, and more tired than he had ever been before. In that order. He struggled to open his eyes, but it felt like an impossible task. His eyelids were so heavy and all he wanted to do was keep sleeping. But the pain.... It felt as if his right leg was on fire. Or at least part of it? Something wasn't right, he knew that much even in his state of mind.

“Thorin?”

He moved his head towards the sound of his name, groaning as he did so. He tried to open his eyes again, but they were just so heavy.

“Easy,” the voice said soothingly. “Take your time.”

Thorin groaned again, willing his eyes to open. He managed to open them for a few seconds, the world around him hazy and a swirl of color. He closed his eyes again, feeling like he was about to throw up.

“Wake up,” the voice gently urged. “You've been asleep for far too long. You need to eat and drink.”

Thorin reluctantly opened his eyes again, smiling softly as the person in front of him came into focus. Only a hobbit would make food a priority over sleep. “Bilbo.”

Bilbo smiled. “Good. I hoped that would wake you up.” He reached to the side and Thorin heard the blessed sound of pouring water. Bilbo put the cup to Thorin's lips and he gulped it down in just a few seconds. “Easy,” Bilbo gently admonished with a smile. “You'll make yourself sick if you do that.”

Thorin really didn't care. He was thirsty. “More,” he demanded hoarsely.

Bilbo poured more water into the cup, holding it to Thorin's lips once more. He tried to go slower this time, but it felt as if he had not had a drink in a very long time.

“Give it a few minutes and you can have some more,” Bilbo said as Thorin emptied the cup. “I don't want you to make yourself sick.”

Thorin nodded, relaxing into his pillows as his pain and exhaustion overtook him.

“What happened?” He asked wearily. “My leg feels as if it's on fire.”

He missed the wary look Bilbo gave him as he tried to get more comfortable in his bed. He needed to not be laying on his back anymore. He felt as if he'd been on it for a very long time. As he tried to push himself into more of a sitting position, his right leg seized painfully. He yelled out, falling back into the bed, curling onto his side as he grabbed at where the pain was coming from.

Multiple hands were suddenly upon him, preventing him from touching his leg. He cried out as the sudden hands caused more pain to shoot up his leg, trying to curl up more, but the hands wouldn't let him. The pain took over everything, blocking out all the noise in the room. He uselessly fought against the hands on him, desperately trying to stop his pain.

Thorin thought he heard someone call his name, somehow making it through the haze of pain he was in, but he ignored it. He didn't care. He just wanted this to _stop_.

“Thorin!”

He shook his head, refusing to listen as he tried to fight the person who had just pinned his hands down.

“Yavanna above, let him go! You're just making it worse!”

The hands didn't let go and he continued to struggle. His leg was hurting so bad. _Mahal make it stop_.

“Let him go! Or at least loosen your grip! He's not going to stop fighting if you don't!”

“He's gonna hurt himself if we do!” Another voice growled out.

“He's going to hurt himself fighting all of you!”

“He needs to calm down first before we can let him go!” A third voice yelled. “I spent too long making sure he's going to survive just for him to tear open his stitches and invite in another infection!”

“Make them see reason!”

“He's scared and in pain,” a fourth voice calmly said. “The more you tighten your grips on him, the more frightened he will become. Let him go and he will calm down.”

Thorin kept fighting. He wanted these hands off of him, he wanted the pain to stop. He just wanted it to _stop_.

He whimpered when he finally felt the hands on him loosen, but they didn't let go of him. He tried to tug his hands free of the grip they were in, but whoever had them had him firmly pinned down.

“Thorin?”

He was slowly coming out of his panic, but the pain was still there. He whimpered again when he felt hands gently cradle his face.

“Thorin?” the voice tried again. “Can you look at me?”

He shook his head, his leg was hurting too much for him to even open his eyes. “Hurts,” he choked out.

“I know it does. We have something to help with that, but we need you to calm down. Your friends are all here, no one is going to hurt you.”

Thorin nodded, trying to tug his hands free again as pain shot down his right leg.

“Get 'im sitting up so he can drink this,” a gruff voice said.

The hands pinning him down disappeared briefly, returning to help sit him up. He was leaning heavily on one of the people in the room as hands carefully cradled his face again. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

Thorin tried, feeling as if this simple task was taking the last of his energy. He finally managed to open them, finding it to be Bilbo in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he could see some familiar knuckledusters. Dwalin. He turned his face slightly, realizing that it was Dwalin he was leaning on.

The hands on his face gently turned him so that he was once again looking at Bilbo. “Oin's going to give you some medicine. It'll help the pain and then we'll explain everything.”

Thorin nodded. He didn't care, he would do anything to make this pain stop. He allowed the medicine to be tipped down his throat, making a face at the absolutely disgusting taste. He was gently laid back, his exhaustion winning out as he slumped into his pillows, allowing the others to prop his legs up and cover him with blankets.

They let him be for a few minutes, allowing him to calm down as the pain slowly faded away to a dull throb. It wasn't ideal, but he would take it after the pain he had just suffered. He opened his eyes, his vision not swimming for the first time he had woken up. Bilbo was sitting on the edge of the bed, Oin and Balin were standing behind him. He had to turn his head slightly to his left to see Dwalin, his arms crossed as he stood next to Thorin.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. “I feel as if I've been in a fog since the battle.”

Oin nodded. “You got a nasty infection in your foot after the battle. You fought it, but no amount of medicine could stop it. I did everything I could, but I failed.”

Thorin looked down at himself, slowly realizing how his right leg didn't look.....right. The room was silent as he carefully leaned forward, pulling the blankets away. His hands were shaking as he revealed his leg. Or what was left of his leg. He started breathing faster. His leg was _gone_ below his knee. Only a few inches of it remained. It was no more than a stump. How could he walk? How could he fight?

How could he rule Erebor?

“I'm so sorry laddie.”

Thorin looked up helplessly at Balin. “W-why?”

“We had no choice,” He answered sadly. “If we had waited any longer we would have lost you.”

Thorin looked back down to his...stump. This had to be a dream. A nightmare. _This couldn't be real_.

He slowly reached out, touching the bandages covering...it. They were real. This was real. But he swore he could still feel his leg. It was still _there_.

“Thorin?” Bilbo softly said, somehow pulling Thorin out of his growing panic for a moment. Until he looked back down to where his right leg should have been.

“I....no...” His panic was growing. And he couldn't stop it. “This...this isn't real!” He looked to Dwalin. “I can still feel it. It's still there!”

Dwalin sadly shook his head. “I'm sorry Thorin.”

He looked to Balin next, who shook his head sadly. Oin met his gaze, giving him a sad smile. Bilbo gave him a smile as well, but his was one of encouragement.

None of their looks helped because underneath them all Thorin could sense one thing: pity. And he hated it. He didn't want that. He didn't need that. He growled as he looked away from them all, pulling his knee up and burying his head it. Thorin didn't want to look at _any_ of them. He could feel bolts of pain running down his mangled leg, but he didn't care. He didn't want to see their looks anymore.

He wanted his family. He wanted his sister. But she was a world away. She knew how to deal with things like this. She'd been the only one who'd known how to make Father feel right after he lost his eye. That might have been her simple childhood innocence, but she'd always had a way with others that Thorin would never understand.

“Bring me my nephews,” he ordered.

“Thorin, I don't think-”

He looked up, glaring at Balin. “I said 'bring me my nephews'. _Now_.”

Balin hesitated for a moment but he knew what this was. It wasn't a request from his friend. It was an order from his king. One he could not disobey.

Balin departed and he buried his face in his knees again.

“Thorin, the lads are still healing. Kili only just started walking this morning and-”

Thorin cut off Bilbo. “I don't care,” he gritted out. “They're my family. I need to know they are alive.” He _needed_ them. He needed to be around his nephews. If there was anyone who would not look at him with pity right now, it was his precious lads. They would find a bright side to this living nightmare. Especially Kili. He always saw the good in the worst of times.

“But-”

“No!” he growled. “I will see them. And you will all leave when they arrive.”

Oin stepped forward, his hands raised. “Thorin, I should stay with you. You're still in danger of-”

  
Thorin glared up at Oin. “ _I do not care_. You will all leave. If I need anything, Fili and Kili will find you.”

The door finally opened, revealing Balin and his nephews. Kili was leaning heavily on Balin, but it looked as if Fili was standing of his own power. Bilbo got up, grabbing Dwalin and pulling him towards the door. Balin helped Kili to the bed, Fili sitting down on the other side as Balin and Oin departed.

“Uncle?”

Thorin looked up from where he had buried his face in his knee once more, fearful that his nephews would pity him.

Fili offered him a warm smile. “We missed you.”

Thorin let out a choked sob, reaching out to pull his boys into the tightest hug he could manage. They held him just as tightly, their tears running into his shirt. They were _alive_. They were safe.

“We're okay,” Kili choked out into Thorin's shirt. “We're okay. And you're okay.” He pulled back slightly, wiping his tears as he smiled. “We all came through this in one piece.” He looked down at where Thorin's right leg had been. “Well, mostly.”

Fili let out a laugh, but they were both more surprised by the low laugh that Thorin let out.

“Aye, that we did.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went back and edited this chapter a bit after a reader helpfully pointed out how Thorin wouldn't be able to move his leg at all due to the cauterization. Sometimes I get so engrossed that I have continuity errors, but they were small errors that have been fixed.

Thorin was tired.

He couldn't walk. He couldn't leave his room. He couldn't even leave his bed. Fili and Kili kept him company as often as they could, but Fili was being pulled away more and more as he recovered to help run the mountain. Kili was still recovering, but he was growing stronger and stronger each day. And Thorin was so relieved for that.

But he was tired.

He was tired of wondering what was going to happen. How he was going to walk. _If_ he was ever going to walk again. When he was going to be able to do more than lay in bed. When he'd be able to be himself again. Nothing felt right. And it was exhausting to think about.

Kili was sitting opposite of Thorin on the massive bed, completely engrossed in the sketchbook in front of him. Whenever he tried to ask Kili what he was working on, Kili just gave him a smile and infuriatingly replied, “Nothing.”

Thorin had tried to grab the sketchbook a few times, his curiosity getting the best of him, but even injured Kili was still fast on his feet and easily evaded his nosy Uncle.

So instead he chose to sulk and dose in and out of sleep. He couldn't do anything else. Oin refused to allow him out of bed until his chest wound was completely healed, fearful that if he fell on accident it would break open the new skin. That was at least another two weeks.

Thorin wondered if he could die from boredom. He was fairly certain he would be the first king to do so. Maybe Ori could make up something better for his eulogy.

Thorin crossed his arms as he caught Kili once again eyeing his missing leg. Kili seemed very interested in it, but he didn't ever mention anything about it to Thorin. Didn't say anything, he just kept eyeing it whenever he thought Thorin wasn't looking. “Staring is rude,” he said gruffly, trying but failing to pull his leg away from Kili's prying eyes. He could barely move it without bolts of pain shooting down it.

Kili looked away sheepishly and scrawled something in his notebook.

“Why do you keep looking at it? It's not like it's going to grow back all of a sudden.”

Kili didn't bother to look up from his notebook. “Maybe I can cast some Elvish magic on it and it will.”

He growled, glaring at his nephew. Little smartass. He wished he could pull his leg away and hide it out of sight, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything except lay in bed. He'd been awake for three days and this still didn't feel right. But maybe it never would. He felt like he should have adjusted a bit to it at the very least, but he still felt like this was some out of body experience. Like he would wake up any day and find out this was just some horrid, _horrid_ nightmare. But every time he woke up he was still missing his leg, still feeling like he just wasn't right.

Kili smiled as he turned a page, cleverly angling it so that Thorin couldn't see what was on it.

“What are you designing?”

“Nothing.”

Thorin threw a pillow at him. Kili didn't even have to look up to dodge it. “I'm an _archer_ Uncle. You'll have to do a lot better than that.”

“Why won't you tell me?”

“You'll find out eventually.”

“Will you just tell me?!”

“No.”

“As your King, I order you to tell me.”

“You know that doesn't work on amad or us.”

“Why are you being so secretive?”

“Why are you being so nosy?”

Thorin glared at his smug nephew. Brat. Fili was no help either. They were plotting something, he knew it. Fili grinned whenever Kili showed him whatever he was sketching, but he to refused to tell his Uncle what was going on.

“Fine. Be that way. I'll find out eventually.”

“Not before we want you to know.”

Thorin leaned back in a huff, rubbing at the upper part of his mangled leg. Ever since he'd woken up, it had been sore. Not just the healing part of it, but the muscles themselves. They felt so stiff like they were made of rock. Dwarves took pride in claiming that Mahal himself created them from stone, but Thorin was beginning to realize just how painful that would be if it were actually true. He had tried to stretch it once, which had been a disastrous mistake. He had pulled on the freshly cauterized skin and it was a pain he had never known before. It had felt as if he'd been ripping his own leg off. The pain had been so severe that he'd lost consciousness. Stretching his leg in any way, shape or form was completely out of the question. The soreness was currently the lesser of the two evils. Rubbing at it helped a bit, but it was always a temporary measure.

He hoped that once Oin finally let him out of bed, stumbling around on a pair of crutches might help relieve some of it. Then again he might be in pain for another reason. He was a master swordsman, but balance was not one of his many skills.

“Staring at it isn't going to make it grow back.”

Thorin looked back up at Kili. He had put away his sketchbook and was watching his Uncle closely. He gave Thorin a small smile, but Thorin could see the concern behind it.

“I know that.”

Kili took a deep breath, clearly troubled by something. Thorin tried to soften his look, knowing that Kili needed to say something, but wouldn't if he thought he might anger his Uncle. “Tell me what's on your mind lad,” he said softly.

“You're.....you're acting like you'll never walk again. Like you'll never be, well, you again.” Kili said quietly. “But it's only been three days. You couldn't leave this bed even if you tried right now. You'd get hurt and you'd start the healing process all over again. And none of us want that.” He took another deep breath, looking away from Thorin. “It was hell for me and Fili, waiting for news of you. They didn't want to tell us the whole truth. They didn't want to tell us anything. We didn't find out that you were going to lose your leg until you were already down in the forges.”

Thorin's heart ached at his nephews' distress, but it lightened somewhat when Kili let out a quiet laugh and looked back up at Thorin. “But we always knew you'd pull through. You always do. You were the hero of all our bedtime stories when we were dwarrows. You and adad. And when he....”

Kili choked on his next words and had to look away. Thorin knew he was hiding tears.

“But you came back,” Kili said softly. “You always came back. No matter the circumstances, you _always_ came back. And we knew you'd come back from this.” He gave Thorin a warm smiled. “That's why we know you're going to come through this. Let the others doubt you, but we won't.”

“You're missing part of your leg, something that was done to save you. To ensure that you lived. Just because that part of you is gone doesn't mean that you've changed. You're still you. It's not like you're going to be any less of a dwarf because of this.” Kili caught his eye. “Look at Dain. He lost his leg too. And he's completely fine. He's a mighty dwarf-lord, one with armies at his back and a prosperous kingdom.”

Thorin rolled his eyes.

“Don't roll your eyes at me Uncle. That's rude.”

Thorin pretended to sulk but smiled at Kili.

“It's just a matter of...” Kili thought for a moment as he looked at his Uncles leg. “Well, relearning everything I suppose. It's going to take time, but you'll do it. I bet Nori that within a year you'd be chasing us around the Mountain.”

“Why would Nori take a bet that he's going to lose?”

Kili rolled his eyes and picked up his sketchbook again. “Nori think's you'll being doing it in six months.”

Thorin had to laugh at that, rolling his eyes at the sheer ridiculousness. But then again Nori was never foolish enough to take a bet he would lose. Maybe he would be running around Erebor in that time. But that would count on him actually having a prosthetic. Maybe the others knew something he didn't, but it would take a few weeks to make him one, not to mention that pure metal was currently in short supply at the moment. All of the spare metal had been allocated to rebuilding the great Gates of Erebor before it had been known that Thorin would lose his leg. It would be several months before the mines could safely be reopened before the precious metals in Erebor's roots could be retrieved.

He would be confined to crutches until that time came. Only pure metal could be used to make a prosthetic, as unpure metal would rust or be compromised by the elements. Not to mention that every smith in the mountain would insist on only the best for the King of Durin's folk. Nothing would be sacrificed.

It was absolutely ridiculous. He was just a dwarf. He didn't need anything special, he just wanted to be able to walk again. To have some freedom.

“It's going to be fine Uncle,” Kili assured him with a smile. “You'll see. We've gotten through worse.”

“Doesn't feel like it,” Thorin replied. “Family death is nothing new to us sadly, but this...” he gestured to his leg. “This is nothing that we've ever dealt with before.”

Kili shrugged as he wrote something down. “Doesn't mean we can't learn how to.”

“This isn't something someone just bounces back from,” Thorin countered.

“Well I would hope not,” Kili responded. “That wouldn't be natural.” He used his charcoal pencil to carefully prod the upper part of Thorin's leg. “This....it's just an inconvenience. For now.”

“It's more than an inconvenience,” he argued. “It changes everything. I have to relearn everything. How can I do that when I'm running Erebor?”

Kili groaned, tossing his sketchbook on the bed beside him. “You're being so stubborn! Just...stop! Don't fight what you can't control. Your leg is _gone_ , Thorin. Sulking isn't going to make it come back, denying this isn't going to mean it's not happening. You have two choices Uncle. Either keep denying this and live in misery, or choose to fight. To conquer this!”

Thorin sat up a bit, glaring at Kili. How _dare_ he say that to him. “I'd like to see you deal with this any other way Kili.”

“I have to deal with it so long as you're dealing with it! You're my Uncle. Fili's too. You don't think that we're going to suffer while you do? That's what family does. We deal with everything together. We live together, we fight together, we die together. Which we almost did for you! Or did you forget that it was you who sent us into that watchtower?”

Thorin reached for Kili, but he easily dodged his Uncle and got off the bed.

“That we were ready to give up our lives for you? But here you are and instead of praising Mahal that we are all alive to fight another day, that we can rule Erebor together, that we are all here living the dream that you gave us all those decades ago you're acting as if your life is over when it's not! You get to keep living. That's more than most of our family can say.”

“Kili, _stop_ ,” Thorin begged. “Please.”

“No Uncle, I'm not. You need to realize how lucky you are! You could have died that day. We all could have. But we're _here_. Fili was stabbed through the back and he fought off a terrible infection. He was unconscious for _days_. He was weaker than a newborn when he finally woke. And me? My lungs collapsed three days after the battle. Air got into my chest from where Bolg tried to run me through. I could barely breathe for days afterward, I felt like each breath would be my last, each one burned like fire. But we kept fighting. We didn't stop. And you don't get to either. You don't get to act like your life is over when it's not. This is just a new chapter in it. And I don't know how else to make you see that.”

Kili snatched up his notebook, storming out before Thorin could say another word.

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bilbo and Fili winced as the door slammed shut to the lads shared room. “I'll get Thorin,” Bilbo said. “You take care of your brother.”

Fili nodded, quickly disappearing into their room. Bilbo silently wished him luck as he entered Thorin's room. He yelped, rushing forward and pushing Thorin back into down into his bed. “What in Yavanna's name do you think you're doing? You can't get out of bed! You'll hurt yourself.”

“I have to find Kili,” Thorin grunted, his face contorted in pain. “I have to talk to him.” He tried to push himself forward, screaming in pain as the movement jarred his leg.

Bilbo pushed him back down onto the bed, worried at just how easily he overpowered Thorin. “Just calm down Thorin. Fili is with him right now. He'll talk to Kili. But you need to stop moving! You're going to hurt yourself!”

Thorin curled up on his side, clutching at his leg as he tried to stop the pain. Bilbo grabbed his hands, pulling them off it and pinning them to the bed. “Thorin you need to stop moving. The more you move, the worse the pain is going to be!”

Bilbo frantically looked around the room, praising Mahal and Yavanna when he saw one of Oin's pain tonics on the bedside table. He grabbed it, pulling the cork out with his teeth and holding the bottle to Thorin's lips. “Drink, now. It'll help.”

Thorin choked the tonic down, gritting his teeth as he tried not to scream at the intense pain he was feeling. Bilbo pinned his hands back down, preventing him from touching his leg again. “Just breathe Thorin. The pain will go away soon enough, just give the tonic time to take effect.”

Thorin nodded, letting out a cry as his leg spasmed. Bilbo looked down at it, fearing that he would see blood seeping through the bandages. He took a deep breath when he saw crimson on the stark white bandages.

“Thorin, just keep breathing. It'll pass,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes off of Thorin's leg and he pulled a blanket over the injury. He didn't want Thorin to see it. Not now. He'd never be able to calm Thorin down from his panic then.

Thorin took another deep breath and slowly let it out, choking on the last of it as he tried to get past the pain. It was several long, agonizing minutes, but the pain _finally_ died down to a dull throb. Bilbo let go of Thorin's hands, allowing him to curl up even more on his bed. Bilbo grabbed a pillow, carefully lifting Thorin's leg and putting the pillow underneath it. Thorin whimpered at the movement, hissing as Bilbo gently put his leg down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bilbo asked softly, gathering fresh bandages from a drawer on the bedside table.

Thorin shook his head, grabbing a pillow and curling into it as he hid his face from view.

“Okay.” Bilbo sat down, carefully unwrapping the stained bandages from Thorin's leg and putting them aside.

“What's happened?” Thorin asked, his voice muffled by the pillow covering his face.

“Nothing. Just a spot of blood is all,” Bilbo explained. “I need to make sure that none of your stitches tore.”

Thorin groaned as Bilbo's fingers gently prodded the swollen skin, biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming. Thankfully none of Thorin's stitches had torn, but the raw, cauterized skin had in his attempt to get out of bed. Bilbo was as gentle as he could be as he rubbed a healing salve onto Thorin's raw skin while going as fast as he could. He knew he was causing Thorin severe pain and wanted to end his misery as soon as possible. He wiped his hand clean as he finished, gently rewrapping the wound in fresh bandages and pulling Thorin's pants leg down to hide it. Thorin still refused to look at the wound and Bilbo suspected that having it covered was somehow helping him deal with it.

“Do you need more pain medicine? I can send someone to fetch Oin if you'd like?”

Thorin shook his head again. Bilbo let him be, cleaning away the old bandages and setting Thorin's bed back to rights.

“I need to find something for you to do while you're stuck in bed. I can't imagine how bored you must be.”

Thorin ignored him.

“Maybe the library survived Smaugs wrath? I'll have to check it and see if they have some books you might like.” Bilbo paused in his tidying, thinking for a moment. “You do have a library, don't you?”

“I'm not playing this game, Bilbo.”

Bilbo smiled as he tidied up Thorin's dirty clothes, throwing them in a makeshift hamper he'd made earlier that week. “At least I got you talking.”

Thorin gave him a dirty look.

“I bet Erebor's library has some fascinating books. Why you must have history books going back hundreds of years! I hope they aren't all in your language though, I'd be so disappointed if I had access to all that history and was unable to read it. Or do you prefer history? Ballads?” Bilbo looked at Thorin as he folded a blanket. “I was never able to pinpoint your type. Usually, I can figure out ones book preference from just a few hours with them. You, not so much.”

Thorin curled up a bit, unable to hide his wince when pain shot through his leg.

“I know that Dwalin would like war books, Balin political. Ori writes them, but I take him to be a lover of all books. Nori likes any book that will give him good information. Dori would be into political history. Bombur is obviously a cookbook kind of dwarf. Bofur mining, Bifur carving or other crafts. Oin would have a preference for ancient books, ones that might help him gain new healing techniques. Gloin likes ancient history, especially that of Moria from what I've gathered. Fili has a love for history as well. Kili a love for books on weapons and if I might say so elves. Especially their history.”

Thorin continued to ignore him, so Bilbo sighed and changed topics.

“Bifur's working on making some crutches for you right now,” Bilbo told him. “He talked to some of the elves who stayed behind, traded some of his carvings for some sturdy wood from Mirkwood. Healthy wood, mind you. None of that sick wood. That just wouldn't do at all. No sturdiness in sick wood at all. It would crack and fall apart in no time.”

Thorin curled up even more.

“He's done an excellent job on them so far. Stunning work actually. I've never seen such detail before. They're a little long, but Bifur said he could adjust them later on.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin, who was still determined to ignore him it seemed. He let out a sigh, sitting back down on the edge of the bed.

“Okay, so you don't want to talk. I can take a hint. But I think you should. Bottling up emotions never helps anyone.”

Thorin remained silent.

Bilbo sighed again, his shoulders slumping. “I don't know what Kili said,” he commented softly, “but whatever it was, he didn't mean it. You know he loves you, more than anything. The boys, they're having a hard time with this. They're trying to deal with this to and we all know how reckless Kili is. He doesn't think, he just acts.”

“He meant it,” Thorin said, his voice just above a whisper.

“He meant well,” Bilbo corrected. “He just went about it in the wrong way.”

“Kili always means what he says,” Thorin choked out.

“Okay,” Bilbo gently said, rubbing at the upper part of Thorin's leg when it spasmed. “Would you be in less pain if you were lying on your back? I'd be able to prop up your leg better.”

Thorin shook his head. Bilbo dropped the subject, rubbing at Thorin's leg again when it spasmed. They stayed in silence for a long while, Bilbo leaving Thorin to his thoughts. Thorin would talk when he wanted to.

“Why does everyone think I'm just going to 'bounce back' from this?” Thorin whispered, Bilbo barely catching his words.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked.

“Kili thinks I'm sulking. That I need to stop and that I'll be fine. But I _can't_ do that. I don't know _how_ to do that.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin in disbelief. “What? That's ridiculous. You've only been awake for three days. That's not nearly enough time to process what's happened or for you to come to terms with this.”

“Then why does he think I'm supposed to already be fine with this?”

Bilbo rubbed Thorin's leg gently. “Because he's scared Thorin. To him, you're supposed to be indestructible. That's how all children see their heroes.”

“Kili is far from a child.”

“But he's not a full adult either,” Bilbo pointed out. “How did you see your own father? Your grandfather? From what I've heard, you idolized them. They were everything to you and when they died, you must have had a terrible time. When my parents died, I was a right mess. They were everything to me. They were supposed to be indestructible. And then they just left me. Fili and Kili? I think they're terrified that they almost lost you. Kili more so, but I don't know why.”

Thorin shook his head. “I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with this.”

“None of us do Thorin,” Bilbo admitted. Thorin tried to curl up more, groaning when it hurt his leg. “You don't have to be the strong one, not this time. What Kili said? He's just worried. He's young. He doesn't know what it's like to have someone dependent on him. Not like you do, not like Fili does. So what he said? Don't take it to heart.”

“I don't know how not to be strong,” Thorin whispered. “All I've ever known is fighting, showing that I'm not weak.”

“Choosing to not be strong this time doesn't mean that you're weak. It means that you're letting us help you. And you're going to need it for a while.”

Thorin looked at him, his eyes pleading. “I need to talk to Kili. _Please_.”

Bilbo shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry but you can't leave your bed Thorin. Give Fili some time to cool Kili down and then he'll come talk to you again. You're exhausted.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin pleaded, his voice cracking as he tried to fight off tears.

“Rest Thorin,” he gently said. “He'll be here soon. I know he will.”

Thorin slammed his fist on the bed, his anger and hurt growing by the second.

“I know you're angry Thorin, but he'll come when he's ready. It's to dangerous to move you right now.”

Thorin slammed his fist down again, curling up as tightly as he could, crying out as pain shot down his leg again.

Bilbo got up, knowing that he couldn't say anything else to make Thorin feel better or ease his pain. He hoped that Fili was having better luck with Kili. He pulled the blankets from the edge of the best, draping them over Thorin. He refused to look at Bilbo, hiding his face in his pillows instead. If Bilbo happened to see his tears, he said nothing of it.

He went and sat in an armchair, pulling out a pipe he'd managed to scrounge up and lighting it. He sorely wished he had some Old Toby, but he supposed something was better than nothing.

All he could do now was wait for Kili to come and talk to Thorin.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kili slammed the door shut behind him, tossing his sketchbook onto the ground as he sat on the bed. As pissed as he was, he knew that he would hurt himself if just flung himself onto it.

Why did Thorin have to be so stubborn? All he saw was the bad in this. Kili just wanted him to see that this wasn't the end of the world. That their was no reason for him to be sulking around.

Fili opened the door, entering their shared room and crossing his arms as he came to stand in front of Kili.

“What happened?”

“Uncle won't see reason, that's what happened.”

Fili gave him an exasperated look. “Tell me what happened Kili.”

Kili fell back on the mattress. “All he's done is sulk in his room for three days! I was just trying to get him to see the bright side in this.”

“What? Kili, right now, there is no bright side to this. Not to Thorin.” Fili sat down in an armchair, rubbing at his temple. “Tell me _exactly_ what you said, Kili.”

He rolled his eyes, but did as Fili asked.

Fili shook his head as Kili finished explaining, looking at Kili with nothing but disappointment. “Kili, it's been _three days_. He's only been _dealing_ with this for three days. He has the right to feel as if nothing is going right. As if this will never get better. Because right now, this is never going to get better. Not to him. Think about it Kili. Just _think_ about it for a second.”

Kili sat up, glaring at Fili. “I _am_ thinking about this, but he's going to be fine. Sulking isn't going to make this better!”

  
“And neither is you berating him for trying to cope with this. He's _trying_ Kili. He's trying to deal with this. You know how closed off Uncle is. He's not going to talk to us about this. Especially not after what you said to him. He's going to shut us out. Which is exactly what we don't want him to do. If he does that, he's not going to get better. He's going to get _worse_.”

“He doesn't even want to talk about it,” Kili angrily pointed out. Since when did Fili side with someone else?

“Would you want to talk about this?” He countered, holding up his hand before Kili could respond. “Uncle doesn't do feelings. This family isn't exactly known for being all touchy-feely. You know that. He doesn't know how to talk about this. And what is there really to talk about? His leg is _gone_. No amount of pleading, wishing, or denying is going to bring it back or turn back time. If he wants to talk to us, then we let him. If he doesn't want to, then we just keep him company. We at least be there for him. Which is what you were supposed to be doing while I was gone today. Not berating him for trying to deal with this.”

“I wasn't berating him,” Kili argued. “I was trying to help him understand that this isn't the end of the world. That this is going to get better.”

“Which you were right about, but saying that he doesn't care about us? Reminding him of what sending us to that watchtower almost cost him? Are you kidding me? You don't think he feels terrible about that as is? All you did was go and rub salt in his wounds. We were the first ones he asked to see when he woke up! He _ordered_ Balin to bring us to him. Uncle never orders anyone around. You know how much he hates using that authority. He only uses it if he has no other choice.”

“I _never_ said he didn't care about us!”

“Well you might as well have,” Fili growled. “I know you were trying to help, but you need to think before you speak.” He rubbed at his temple again. “This is part of the reason mother thinks you're reckless Kili. You don't think of the consequences. You just do as you please and damn the rest of it.”

“I was just trying to help him,” Kili said quietly.

Fili sat back in his chair, looking absolutely exhausted. “I know you were Kili, but you have to remember that Thorin isn't you. None of us are. None us of have your ability to just bounce back from anything and everything. We can't just see the bright side in everything.” Fili smiled softly at Kili. “I wish we all had your ability to do that. To have as pure a soul as you do. You always see the good in people. The bright side in a living nightmare. But we don't have that. Thorin and I, we have to deal as best we can. And that's what he's doing. Kili, what if you lost your hand? What if you could never pick up a bow again? How would you react? You can't tell me what you'd be perfectly fine. You would be absolutely devastated. Even you couldn't just bounce back from that and be fine.”

“I just wanted him to see that everything would be fine,” Kili whispered. “I just wanted him to know that we would be here for him. That we'd never doubt him.”

“He knows that Kili and you were right to tell him that. You just need to give him time. More than three days. He can't even leave his bed yet. He has to relearn how to walk again. And that's counting on him having a prosthetic. If he doesn't, then he'll be confined to crutches.”

Fili heaved himself out of his chair and sat down beside Kili. “Have you seen it yet?”

Kili leaned forward, his face in his hands. “No. He throws me out every time they change the bandages.”

Fili let out a deep breath, closing his eyes at the memory. “It's...bad Kili. And I mean really bad. The blade they used cauterized it, but Oin had to undo some of it to make sure that his leg would heal right. Make sure the bone wouldn't be exposed or anything. It's raw skin right now, sewn shut. Oin gives him the good pain tonics when he changes the bandages, but even then he's still in a lot of pain. He hasn't even seen it yet, he refuses to. He turns on his side and hides his face in the pillow. He's having a hard time. He can still feel it. To him that means maybe this isn't not real. That maybe he'll wake up one day and this will have just been some nightmare.”

“Why does he let you see it, but not me?” Kili asked.

“Because he didn't know I was there when they changed the bandages the first time. He'd thought that I'd left while he was sleeping. He didn't want us to see it. To see him like that. He knows how we see him. As this indestructible force. He didn't want us to think of him as anything less than that.”

“We could never think of him that way. He's the King of Durins folk. He's our Uncle. He knows that.”

  
Fili nodded. “Aye he does, but he's tired and in pain Kili. The pain tonics Oin gives him only dull the pain, they don't stop it. He can't fully comprehend everything right now. All he knows is base instinct.”

Kili looked up at his brother. “He can't even look at it Fili. He's not even _trying_ to deal with this.”

“Yes,” Fili insisted. “He is. He's trying. He's not doing a very good job of it, but he _is_ trying. We just need to give him time Kili. That's all we can do.”

Kili closed his eyes and nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“I know you are Kili, but you need to tell Uncle that. He's not going to be angry at you, you know that. Just go and talk to him.”

Kili nodded again. “I will. I'll make this right.”

Fili clapped Kili's shoulder, pulling him in for a hug. “It's going to be alright. Give him time to recover and give yourself some time to relax. Bilbo's with him right now.

Kili sniffled, rubbing his face as tears came to his eyes. “This isn't fair. This should never have happened to him.”

Fili hugged Kili tighter. “No, it shouldn't have.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Kili stood in front of the door to his Uncle's room, staring it down. He'd been standing there for ten minutes, unable to muster the courage to open the door. He felt terrible for what he'd said to Uncle, for how it must have come across. How could he have said any of that to Thorin? He was the only father Kili had truly known, his adad having died when he was far too young.

Fili nudged him in the back, startling him out of his staring match. “Go on,” he said softly. “Uncle won't be mad.”

Kili nodded, taking a deep breath as he knocked on the door softly. No voices came from inside, so he quietly opened the door and peaked in. Bilbo was sitting in an armchair, smoking as he stared into the fire. He looked deep in thought but looked up at the creak of the door. He gave Kili a soft smile, motioning for him to come in as he stood up, stretching his back until it cracked. Kili winced as he shut the door behind him, wincing at the small thud it made.

He looked over to Thorin's bed, surprised to find his Uncle sound asleep. Cocking his head, he quietly walked over, coming to stand in front of his Uncle. Kili's heart pounded painfully as he saw the tear tracks on his Uncles face, his face filled with pain and sorrow.

A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard as he realized just how much pain he had caused his ailing Uncle.

“He cried himself to sleep,” Bilbo told him quietly. “He's hurting right now and not just physically.”

Kili nodded in understanding.

“Don't let him leave his bed.” Kili gave Bilbo a questioning look, not understanding. Thorin couldn't leave his bed until the end of the month. Bilbo sighed, taking a long draw on his pipe. “He tried to leave it to go after you. I managed to keep him in it, but you can't run away again. Who knows what he'll do.”

Kili nodded again, his heart feeling like it was being ripped out of his chest. He was a terrible nephew.

Bilbo gently squeezed Kili's shoulder, giving him an encouraging smile. “He still loves you Kili. Wait for him to wake up and then talk with him.”

Kili sniffled, rubbing his eyes as Bilbo departed, leaving him alone with his exhausted Uncle. What he wouldn't do to have a pipe right now. He needed a smoke. Something to calm his nerves. He wiped at his eyes again as he dragged the armchair over from the fire, putting it close to the bed so that he could prop his feet up on the bed as he sat. He pulled the blanket hanging over the edge of the armchair off, wrapping himself up in it as he settled in to wait for Thorin to wake up.

It didn't take long for him to start dozing off as well, all of his emotions from the day catching up with him. The room was warm, a precaution to prevent Thorin from getting sick, which meant that it was all too easy for the crackling fire in the hearth to slowly lull him to sleep.

His eyes lids slowly became heavier and heavier and he struggled to keep them open. He didn't want to fall asleep while he was watching over his Uncle. What if Thorin woke up and he was asleep? What would he think of Kili then?

He tried and tried, but it was no use. He found his eyes shutting despite his orders not to and he settled into a deep sleep.

~~~~~

Thorin groaned as he moved in his sleep. His leg was hurting something fierce. Probably because he had been so stubborn earlier with trying to get out of bed. He should have known better, but he just had to talk to Kili. But he couldn't go anywhere. Even if he had somehow managed to get out of bed, he still couldn't get anywhere. He would have to crawl which he knew would cause him an unbearable amount of pain.

He blearily opened his eyes and was surprised to find Kili sleeping in an armchair in front of him. The lad looked as tired as he felt, his legs twitching as he slept. Thorin smiled softly at the lad as he carefully sat up and gently shook Kili's knee to wake him. Kili's eyes shot open, his legs flailing as he tried to regain his balance before he fell off of the chair.

Thorin grabbed his nephews' legs, holding him steady as he calmed down. “Easy lad, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Kili nodded as he regained his balance, Thorin releasing his legs. He looked down at his hands for a moment, clearly wanting to say something to Thorin, but not knowing how to.

“Kili?” He softly asked, his worry starting to grow as Kili looked at him from under his lashes. “Kili, I'm not mad.”

Kili threw himself into Thorin, wrapping his arms around his Uncles shoulders as he broke into sobs.

“I'm so sorry!”

Thorin wrapped his arms around Kili, carefully using what little strength he had to maneuver Kili on the bed so that his nephew wouldn't hit his mangled leg. He gently shushed his crying nephew, but Kili was having none of it, shaking his head as he gripped his Uncle's shirt tightly.

“It's not okay. I should never have said any of that. I didn't mean it, I swear! I was just so upset and I don't know how to deal with this.” He hiccuped, letting go of Thorin with one hand and wiping at his nose. “Fili says I need to remember that you're not me, that you're not going to see the bright side in this.”

Thorin hugged Kili tighter. “Oh, lad. It's-”

Kili quickly cut him off. “Don't say it's alright. Please don't. Because it's not. I should never have said anything. I should never have said you didn't care about us. I know you do. You named us your heirs. You practically raised us. And I'm so, so sorry. You should hate me for what I said.”

Thorin pushed Kili away from him, holding him firmly by his shoulders as he looked his nephew in the eye. Or tried to at least. Kili refused to look at him he was so ashamed of what he had said.

“Kili, I could never hate you,” Thorin told him firmly. “ _Never_. You and your brother, you're the sons I never had but was privileged enough to help raise.”

Kili nodded, wiping at his face again. Thorin pulled him in for a hug again, holding Kili as tightly as he could. “I know it's hard. I don't know how to deal with this. At all,” he confided softly. “My leg is gone and it feels like I'll never be me again. I don't know what the future holds for me right now and that _terrifies_ me. I've always known what to do next, but this? I don't have a clue as to what I need to do.”

Kili was shaking in his arms and he felt like his heart was breaking. “You and your brother, I never should have sent you into that watchtower. I should have known it was a trap from the beginning. When I saw Fili-” Thorin had to stop to take a breath, his emotions getting the best of him. “I thought I had known loss before, but to see him run through by that _monster_... I experienced a fear and hatred I had never known before. When I couldn't find you, it only grew. You two and your mother are all I have left in this world. And to think I almost lost you both, it nearly destroyed me. I should never have let you out of my sight.”

Kili shook his head. “We went because we followed orders. You're our king. We're supposed to do as you say.”

Thorin shook his head in return, thinking of Vili. Of the last orders, he had given the lads father before he'd unknowingly sent him off to his death. He had failed his nephews. Completely and utterly _failed_ them. “I'm supposed to be your _Uncle_ first. I'm supposed to keep you _safe_. Like your father would have. Instead, I sent you off to face death.”

“Death comes for us all,” Kili said quietly. “You can't escape him.”

Thorin shook his head. “We can't escape Death, but I practically handed you to him. You're not even _eighty_ Kili. Fili's barely of age. You shouldn't have even been on this journey. Your father-” Thorin took a deep breath, his ears ringing with the last promise he had made to Vili all those decades ago. “Your father would send me to the afterlife himself if he were here.”

“Adad would have been here with us,” Kili countered. “He would never have been left behind, just like Fili and I wouldn't be left behind.”

“No, he wouldn't,” Thorin said. He pulled away from Kili, brushing the lad's unruly hair out of his face. “Vili never would have come, because he would have stayed behind to make sure you both stayed safe. Away from all this death. Your father was a peaceful man. He was always the first to smile, the first to laugh. He could see the bright side of everything. Just like you can.”

Kili let out a soft laugh, wiping at his eyes. “I guess I had to get it from somewhere.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “You two were his entire world. You and your mother. He'd race home every day just to be able to spend a few more minutes with you. I've never seen a happier dwarf than on the day you two were born. He was so happy to show you both off to me. You might have been my heirs, but you were _his_ boys. And I broke every promise I made to him by allowing you to come with me.”

Kili shook his head. “Don't regret letting us come. We never knew any of this would happen. How dangerous it would really bed. The only thing we knew that was waiting for us for sure was Smaug.”

Thorin let out a dry laugh. “That makes it so much better. That I allowed my nephews to accompany me on a Quest to slay a dragon of all things.”

“But we _survived_ ,” Kili insisted. “We're alive. Fili and I will be healed by the end of the month. You'll be fine not long after.” He looked down at his Uncle's leg. “You'll be okay. You'll walk again. You haven't changed.”

Thorin shook his head sadly. “It feels like I've lost everything Kili. I can't even leave this bed.”

“But that's only for now. Bifur is making your crutches. It'll take some time for you to learn, but you'll be able to move about. And once the mines are reopened we can start planning out a prosthesis for you. This is all just temporary, except for your leg. By this time next year, everything will be back to normal.”

“A year is a long time lad.”

Kili nodded. “Exactly! A year ago today we could only dream of Erebor. Today she's ours once again.” Kili gave him a smile. “You have to have faith that everything will turn out alright. That everything will sort itself out.”

Thorin chuckled, his eyes clouding with long ago memories. “Vili used to say the same thing to Dís and I whenever we started to doubt ourselves. It became much easier to believe after your brother and you were born. He'd just plop one of you in our laps and dare us to frown.”

Kili smiled, his eyes filled with a mixture of happiness and sadness. “I wish I had real memories of him,” he said quietly. “I only know him through stories.”

Thorin gave him a soft smile. “He was a good dwarf. And I see so much of him in you two. You and Kili used to follow him around everywhere, pretending you were his fierce little soldiers. He would have been so proud to see who you grew into.”

“I hope so,” Kili murmured. “But he would have to thank you for that.” He looked up at Thorin. “You raised us after he died. You and Uncle Dwalin taught us everything he couldn't.”

Thorin swallowed the lump in his throat. It was his faults the lads adad was dead. “We only taught it because he couldn't,” he told Kili, trying to keep his voice steady. “It's a fathers right in our culture to teach his sons everything he knows. He never had a chance to pass on his skills to either of you.” A chance Thorin had deprived him of.

“Uncle?” Thorin looked up at Kili, unaware that he had spaced out for several minutes until just now. “Did I say something?”

Thorin shook his head. “No, everything is fine.” He took a deep breath, doing his best to banish his memories to the back of his mind. “Everything is going to be fine,” he stated. He gave Kili a long look, his lips twitching into a smile. “You can't expect me to bounce back from this, but eventually, I'll be okay. I don't know how long it's going to take, but I will be.”

“You know that you can talk to us? Right?” Kili asked gently. “You can't bottle anything up during this. It's not fair to you. Me and Fili, we'll listen. We won't judge you or anything. Just, talk to us, ya know?”

Thorin nodded. “I know that lad.”

“That means we can talk to you about this, right?”

Thorin gave Kili a questioning look. “Right?” he said hesitantly.

Kili looked down at Thorin's mangled leg and Thorin desperately wished he could hide it from sight again. “Don't hide from this, Uncle. Please. I know you don't want to look at it or to have anyone really see it, but you can't hide from it. Neither can me and Fili.” He took a deep breath, brushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. “I'm not saying that you have to like it, but please don't throw us out when they change the bandages. It's hard for us to support you when we can't be there.”

Thorin looked down at his stump, the vast difference between his two legs still surprising him. Maybe it always would. He wasn't like Dain, who had lost his leg young. Thorin knew from experience that it was easier to deal with massive losses and tragedies when you were young, rather than when you were older. It was easier to adapt. He knew he would have a much harder time growing accustomed to this life change.

Kili squeezed his hand, offering him an encouraging smile when he looked up. “At least think about it?”

Thorin smiled back and nodded. “I will.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Thorin crossed his arms, glaring at Bilbo. How could the hobbit always be so cheery? It was annoying. And not natural. Said annoying hobbit was cheerily whistling as he sat on the ground, sorting out the dozens of books he had carted up from Erebors vast library over the past week.

“Stop whistling,” he demanded, wishing he had something to chuck at Bilbo when the hobbit ignored him. Bilbo had been immensely pleased to find that the library had been lucky enough to escape Smaug's wrath. The books had suffered from neglect, but Bilbo had happily reported to him that Ori had already taken the challenge of restoring the books on himself. Ori had begrudgingly allowed Bilbo to remove some of the books after he had deemed them in good condition. Bilbo had complained loudly to Thorin about this, saying that Ori was trying to read them all before he could.

Thorin was starting to go stir crazy in his room. Oin had promised him that tomorrow he could _finally_ leave his bed and try out using crutches for the first time and the waiting was driving him _insane_. He itched to leave his bed and move around. He'd been good for the entire two weeks, hadn't tried to get out of bed, hadn't tried to bribe anyone to help him escape, he'd even kept his complaining to a bare minimum. But no, Oin refused to reward him for his good behavior. Thorin wondered if he was doing it on purpose.

Bilbo hummed quietly to himself as he picked up one of the few books he hadn't read, turning the pages curiously before he set it off to the side. Thorin knew it was one of the few Bilbo hadn't read because he'd had no choice but to listen to Bilbo ramble on and on as he devoured every single book he'd brought up, telling him about each and every one. In excruciating detail. He was worse than Balin.

“Can't you stop whistling?”

“Stop your complaining,” Bilbo told him, picking up another book and opening it up. “Just because you've decided to be a miserable, grouchy lump doesn't mean the rest of us have to be.”

“I am not being a 'miserable, grouchy lump',” Thorin argued back. “You're just insufferably happy.”

“You would just _hate_ Hobbiton. Happy hobbits all around. You wouldn't know what to do.” Bilbo looked incredibly pleased with that thought and Thorin glared at him harder.

“Go irritate Fili and Kili.”

“They enjoy my company, unlike you seem to today,” Bilbo remarked, setting the book aside on the table as well with the other one. “What has your pants in such a twist?”

Thorin really wished he could throw something at Bilbo. “What kind of saying is that? My pants are not in a twist.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes at the dwarf, stacking three books in a pile and moving them to the side. “It's a hobbit saying. It means to get the stick out of your arse. You dwarves have heard of that saying right?”

Thorin gave Bilbo a very rude gesture, which earned him dark look and the threat of no food for a week. Thorin gave Bilbo a smug look in return, pleased that that gesture was universal to all of Middle-Earth.

Bilbo decided to ignore him, picking up another book and starting to leaf through it. He let out a displeased sigh, turning the pages slower as he looked at the foreign words in front of him.

“Would it be possible for me to learn...Khuzdul? That's what you call your language right?” Bilbo asked quietly, his fingers tracing the letters on the page. “I can see the illustrations and I can guess as to what they're about, but it's such a bother that I can't read any of this. I picked up Elvish rather quickly as a child, thanks to my mother. She traveled quite a bit before she had me, spent some time in Rivendell in her youth.”

Thorin did his best to hide his grimace at the thought of Rivendell. What was Bilbo's blasted obsession with the pointy-eared bastards?

Bilbo still caught it and rolled his eyes. “She was a Took you know. Rumored to have Fairy blood somewhere on her side of the family. Generations back of course and it was so long ago that no one knows for sure. We think it's why the Tooks tend to go off on adventures, or at least are more likely to. She quite enjoyed Rivendell from what she told me. The Elves taught her healing measures and basic swordsmanship. Of course, she gave up that last bit when she settled down and married my father. She put her healing knowledge to good use though.” Bilbo paused, smirking to himself. “I was quite the troublesome child. Always stealing pies off of windowsills, running around with my toy sword. I remember my mother scolding me for whacking Gandalf with it one Midsummers Eve, back when he used to come visit the Old Took.”

Thorin snorted at the thought of a young Bilbo whacking Gandalf with a toy sword. He was fairly certain Bilbo was the only creature in all of Middle-Earth to get away with such a deed.

“He helped my mother teach me a bit of Elvish, but my mother banned him from it when he thought it was appropriate to teach me some rather rude words. Whacked him over the head with her frying pan.”

He couldn't help but laugh at that bit of information. He would have to file that away for future blackmail against the infuriating wizard. Thorin uncrossed his arms as he leaned forward in bed, doing his best to scoot closer to the edge of it so that he could see the book Bilbo had in his hands better. He still had to be careful with his mangled leg. Any sudden movements and he could easily send his leg into a spasm, regardless of the newly healed skin covering the stump. A few sections still had healing skin, but for the most part, the cauterized skin had healed well, all due to Oin's numerous salves to keep the healing skin moist. Oin had warned him that it would still be sensitive for several more weeks, the new skin more prone to breakage or damage until it toughened up a bit.

He couldn't help but smile to himself when he was able to move without triggering his leg, feeling like maybe he was starting to get used to this change. He got himself as comfortable as he could on the edge of the bed, looking over the edge of it and down at the book Bilbo had cradled in his lap.

Sure enough, the book Bilbo held in his hand was written entirely in Khuzdul, the secret language of the dwarves. Very few outside of their race knew it, mainly those dratted wizards who had to stick their nose in everyone and their mothers business. Thorin didn't know of any outsider in his life who had been given such an honor, nor in in fathers or grandfathers.

“I would have to speak with Balin,” Thorin said slowly, his eyes looking at the words. “We don't share our language with outsiders for Mahal gifted it to us and we consider it sacred.”

Bilbo visibly deflated in front of Thorin and the dwarf felt terrible for it. He didn't wish to deprive Bilbo of such knowledge, for he trusted Bilbo, but this was more than a matter of his approval. Such a matter would need the approval of half the council at least. And that was when a council was officially formed.

“I understand.” Bilbo looked up at him and smiled, despite the obvious disappointment in his eyes. “Truly, I do. It's important to you and I respect that.”

Bilbo turned another page and stopped dead as he looked down at the illustration on the page. Thorin looked back down and he felt his eyes go wide with horror. On the page was a portrait of him. As a baby.

He slowly looked to Bilbo, his horror growing as Bilbo's face broke out into the biggest shit-eating grin he had ever seen. Bilbo burst into laughter, falling backward onto the floor with the book in his hands, preventing Thorin from reaching it.

Thorin flailed about as he failed to grab it, regaining his balance before he fell off the bed and injured himself.

“You....” Bilbo burst into laughter again, unable to form words he was laughing so hard. “Baby...”

Thorin wanted to _die_.

Dwalin's head appeared from the doorway, looking at Bilbo as if he'd grown a second head. “What has you laughin' like a hyena?”

Bilbo still couldn't form words, instead motioning Dwalin over and handing him the book. Dwalin looked at the portrait, then slowly looked up at Thorin, an evil smile taking shape on his face. “Awwww, look at little baby Thorin.”

“Say another word and I will charge you with treason.”

Dwalin burst into laughter, sitting down in the armchair with the book and turning another page. “Look how grumpy he is in this one.” He held up the book to Bilbo, both of them looking at the portrait and then back up to Thorin as one. He felt his face go beet red and they both burst into laughter again.

“I hate you both.”

They only laughed harder. Bastards.

“Give me that book. NOW!”

Bilbo shook his head. “I need Ori,” he managed to get out. “I need copies of this.”

Dwalin nodded in agreement. “I wonder how much I would have to give him to make a large scale copy of this. We could hang it up in the Gallery of the Kings.” Dwalin looked at Thorin. “Couldn't we cousin? It would make a grand addition next to your father and grandfathers portraits.”

“I will kill you,” Thorin seethed, his fingers itching for Orcrist.

“Oh come now Thorin,” Bilbo said as he managed to stop laughing for more than a few seconds. “It's just some good old-fashioned joking.” He looked back down at the portrait. “I didn't realize that you've been grumpy since you were a baby though.” At that, he burst into laughter again, the picture in front of him just too perfect for words.

Thorin looked like he was just out of his toddler years, a toy sword at his hip, a young raven on his shoulder, his arms crossed as he glared at whoever was taking his portrait. He looked like a much younger version of Kili, his hair pulled back with no braids in his hair or at least none that Bilbo could see. He only had scruff on his cheeks, a barely their fluff. There was a caption under the portrait, but since it was in Khuzdul, he couldn't read it. “What does this say?” Bilbo asked Dwalin.

Dwalin looked at it, his eyes crinkling with laughter as he read out, “Thorin being told that he's going to be an older brother.”

Bilbo smiled at that, looking over to Thorin. “What an occasion,” he remarked. “Did you really dread it so much?”

Thorin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms again. “No.”

Dwalin rolled his eyes as well. “Greedy bugger didn't want to share his toys. Ever.”

“Speaking from experience?” Bilbo asked curiously.

“Yep.” Dwalin gave Thorin a toothy smile. “He didn't want the toy until you had it. That's when it was his and his alone. Brat didn't learn to share until he was nearly two decades old.”

“I'm sitting right here you know!” Thorin yelled out, waving his arms about. Bilbo and Dwalin ignored him.

“What is this book?” Bilbo asked curiously, turning the page again and smirking when he found another drawing of young Thorin.

Dwalin looked at the cover page of the book. “The Line of Durin,” he read off dutifully. “This is a complete record of the family, starting with Durin himself. Notable events and records, births, deaths, things like that.”

“So it's a family album?” Bilbo asked. Thorin noticed an evil glint in his eyes, one that he couldn't place. Bilbo kept turning the pages and suddenly he stopped, a grin forming on his lips. “Which means this must be you Dwalin.”

Dwalin looked down in horror at the page, Bilbo leaping out of his reach before he could grab the book away from Bilbo. “You look just as grumpy as Thorin does.” Bilbo handed Thorin the book and now it was finally his turn to burst into laughter.

Dwalin was sitting on the floor, maybe two years old. He had toy weapons scattered all over the floor around him, his bushy hair in an untamable mohawk, just like his father Fundin had once had. He was glaring at whoever was taking his portrait, just like Thorin had been.

“I've never seen this before,” Thorin said with a wicked grin. “Actually, I've never seen any of these before. I wonder what else could be in here.” He continued to turn the pages but was sadly disappointed when no more portraits of Dwalin appeared. He felt a pang of sadness when he turned to the next page, coming across a portrait of Frerin. Of him and Frerin actually. Despite how he had originally reacted to being told his family was expanding, he'd been thrilled when Frerin had been born and had been more than happy to sit for a portrait with his new baby brother. He turned the page again, finding one more of him. Turning only a few more pages revealed portraits of an infant Dís and a few of the three siblings together. After that the pages were blank. The book had been left behind in the wake of Smaug's destruction, the rest of it left unfilled.

It was strange to see the portraits, of times so long ago. Before everything had changed. He didn't want to be melancholy though. They were happy times and they should be remembered as such. It would do him no good to mire such good moments in tragedy and mourning. He would have to show the book to his sister when she finally arrived and have the portraits of young Fili and Kili added to the book. Dís had had them commissioned several times during their childhoods, ever hopeful that one day she would be able to put them in the book herself.

He closed the book and promptly sat on it, depriving Bilbo of the chance to steal it back. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he picked up another book and flopped down into an armchair. “Such a child,” he muttered, shooting Thorin a glare.

“I'm not a child, I'm a King,” he retorted.

“Fine, the Child King.”

Dwalin snorted, trying to grab the book from under Thorin's ass. Thorin thwarted him by sucker punching him in the family jewels. Dwalin kneeled over, carefully cupping himself as he swore loudly, cursing his cousin to the deepest pits in Erebor. Thorin smirked as he sat back, pulling the book back out and started reading from the beginning.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Thorin was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the crutches that Oin was holding out to him. He had been looking forward to this day ever since he had woken, but now it seemed as if this would be an impossible task. They just looked so....thin. How could they possibly hold his weight? He feared that as soon as he put even a fraction of his full weight on them, they would splinter beneath his fingers. He knew that Bifur would never give Thorin anything less than his best, but he just didn't know how two pieces of wood would support his entirety.

“Uncle?” Kili said tentatively. Thorin looked away from the crutches to Kili, finding his nephew to be giving him an encouraging smile. Fili nodded when Thorin looked at him as well, giving Thorin a smile as well.

Thorin took a deep breath and held out his hands to Oin. With a smile, Oin handed the crutches over to Thorin and then took a few steps back to give Thorin the room he would need to take his first steps. Thorin positioned the crutches, scooting further to the edge of the bed as he tried to use them to heave himself up. He managed to get about halfway up, but suddenly his good leg felt like jelly, shaking and then giving out on him. He lost his grip on his crutches and they clattered to the ground as he fell back with a loud grunt, his face burning with humiliation.

_He couldn't even get out of bed._

Oin didn't even blink as he grabbed Fili and Kili by the backs of their tunics, stopping them before they swarmed their Uncle. This was a completely normal thing as far as he was concerned, having done far too many amputations in his lifetime.

“It's fine,” he said calmly, giving a gentle tug on the lads' tunics before letting them go. He picked up the crutches from where they had fallen, pleased to see that there wasn't even a scratch on them. “Do you want to try again?”

Thorin shook his head. This was _humiliating_. He couldn't even get out of bed. He just wanted everyone to leave. Maybe he could do it on his own, instead of having the lads and Oin here as witnesses to this disaster.

Oin backed off for a moment, simply holding the crutches and letting Thorin calm down. He knew just how exhausting this was on a dwarf; mentally, physically, and emotionally. Tensions ran high and new amputees often struggled during their first days of moving about again. Fili and Kili looked at Oin, their eyes pleading. He nodded, and the boys sat beside Thorin, Fili remaining quiet but smiling, while Kili immediately turned to his usual chatter.

  
“One more time Uncle,” he urged gently. “We'll help you. And then we'll talk to Dwalin about making sure he starts a training regiment for you, that way we can help you build the muscle back up in your leg.”

Thorin grimaced but nodded in agreement. He knew he could never win again his nephews, especially with Kili's never-ending optimism.

“Put your arms around us,” Fili told him. “We'll help you get up.”

Thorin did as Fili said, putting his arms around the lads shoulders. They would have to bear all of his weight to get him up, as he clearly had no strength in his remaining leg. His own body had turned on him. The lads must have had some unspoken signal, as they carefully rose together, bringing Thorin with him. He kept his head down, allowing his hair to hide his face, which he knew was still burning.

As the lads stood fully, his vision swam in front of him, black specks dominating everything. He swayed as he lost his balance, Fili and Kili moving to compensate for his movements, but keeping him upright.

Oin moved to stand in front of Thorin, knowing exactly what was happening. “Close your eyes and keep your head down. It'll pass in a moment.”

Thorin nodded, and blessedly it passed just a moment later. Would it be like that every time he tried to get up now?

“Completely normal reaction. You've been lying down for so long that any sudden movements like that would almost certainly cause such a thing. It won't be permanent, but it might happen the first few days. So long as you're slow when you do it, it shouldn't be as severe as this first one.”

Thorin nodded again, taking slow and deep breaths as his heart raced. He was already exhausted and he hadn't even managed to take a step.

“Kili, can you get the crutches?” Fili asked quietly.

Kili nodded, carefully extracting himself from Thorin's side, leaving Fili to bear the full weight of their Uncle. He took the crutches from Oin, holding one out to Thorin. He took it with a shaking hand, putting it under his arm and putting as little weight as possible onto it.

“You can trust it to hold you Uncle,” Fili said softly. “Bifur would never give you anything less that his best. It won't fail you.”

Thorin eyed the piece of wood again. It just looked so skinny and frail. Dwarves were built thick and strong and that a piece of wood could support him just seemed so impossible.

“Trust us Uncle,” Fili urged, squeezing Thorin's hand encouragingly.

Thorin nodded, carefully putting more of his weight on the crutch. He expected to hear the wood splintering, but it didn't. Both Fili and Kili were smiling as Kili held out the other crutch to him. This would be the trickiest part. Thorin would have to find his balance, with minimal help from the lads. Thorin carefully removed his arm from around Fili, putting his full weight on the one crutch for the first time. Fili quickly moved to stand behind Thorin, ready to catch him should he lose his balance.

Thorin briefly swayed, but he took the crutch from Kili and somehow managed to balance himself with it. He looked down at himself, his pants leg carefully tied off at where the stump ended, his other socked foot in stark contrast to the rock underneath it. But he was standing. For the first time in a month, he was _standing_.

He couldn't help but smile. This was definitely an improvement over being in bed. He looked up, finding both the lads just beaming at him while Oin looked on with a smile.

“Excellent job,” he said, removing a charcoal pencil from his pocket and leaning down. “Are the crutches comfortable their?”

Thorin shifted them a bit and then nodded. Oin carefully made a small mark about an inch above the end of them. “Bifur got them nearly perfect. He might have to change the height later, but I feel like this is good for you. Once we get you back in boots they'll be fine.” He stood back up, pocketing the charcoal pencil and circling Thorin. “Now, any pain?”

Thorin shook his head. His mangled leg didn't feel right by any means, just dangling their, but it wasn't hurting him.

Oin nodded again. “Alright, let's try to take a few steps. Balance yourself on your leg so that you take the weight off the crutches and then move them forward enough for you to take a step. You'll have to swing your body forward slightly with the first one to make the step, but once you get used to it you'll learn to carry the momentum. Don't worry about falling, the lads will be right beside you.”

Thorin audibly swallowed, taking a deep breath as he did his best to do as Oin said. It was so hard to put his full weight on his good leg again, he felt like it was going to collapse. He all but slammed the crutches down as he tried to swing his body forward to make the step. He moved too fast though, his body continuing forward. Fili and Kili immediately caught him, preventing him from hitting the floor.

“You did good Uncle,” Kili told him. “Just a little to enthusiastic.”

Fili rolled his eyes at Kili, but smiled all the same. “Trust yourself, Uncle.”

“I'm trying,” he gritted out. “My damned leg can't even hold my weight.”

Thorin was visibly distressed, his face turning even redder as he tried to keep it hidden behind a curtain of hair. Oin could easily sense it, knowing that Thorin was already close to hitting his limit, if he hadn't already. “Just one more step Thorin and then you can rest again for a few hours.”

Thorin looked behind himself to his bed. He clearly longed to rest again, but he shook his head. “No. I have to do more.” He looked to Fili and Kili, who seemed to be having a silent debate over whether they should convince Thorin to rest or encourage him in his thought to keep going. “Help me get to the other side,” he asked quietly, trying to hide the exhaustion in his voice.

Oin moved slightly, so that he arced closer to the bed. “Turn yourself slightly on your next step, like you would when making a curve.”

Thorin nodded, Fili and Kili releasing him, but staying close to his side. “More room,” he grunted. They took a half a step back and he supposed that was the best he was going to get. He knew they were worried. He could feel it rolling off of them in waves.

He carefully put his full weight on his leg again, moving the crutches and forcing himself forward. He put less energy behind it this time, only swaying slightly. “Keep going,” Oin instructed as he took another step back. “It's easier for you to keep going once you've started.”

He nodded, forcing himself forward again.

“Good, keep going.”

Again. Fili and Kili easily kept pace with him. He knew he was probably going so very slow, but it felt like it only took seconds for him to reach the other side of the bed. He was panting, this new exercise exhausting him. He would have no choice but to get used to it. This was his life now. Dependent on two sticks of wood to move around. What a joke.

He gratefully sank back onto the bed, Kili taking his crutches and leaning them against the bedside table as Fili helped him sit back, propping up his mangled leg.

“A good start,” Oin said when Thorin was finally situated. “Better than most. We can give it a try again in a few hours.”

Thorin had no choice but to nod. He couldn't be confined to his bed for the rest of his life. As exhausting as he found this, he had no choice but to master it if he ever wanted to regain some of his independence.

Fili and Kili looked to Oin, who gave them an encouraging smile. “I'll be back after lunch and we'll give it a try them.” With that he departed, leaving the little family alone together.

“You did good Uncle,” Fili said as he sat in an armchair and pulled out his pipe. “You'll be chasing us all over the mountain in no time. And you'll actually have something to whack us with to.”

Thorin snorted at that mental image, remembering a time decades ago when he and Dwalin chased the little menaces all over the Blue Mountains.

Kili rolled his eyes as he sat at the end of the bed, bringing one of the crutches with him. He wanted to inspect them himself and he wasn't disappointed. “Uncle, have you looked at this yet?” he asked.

Thorin shook his head, holding out his hand for the crutch. Kili handed it over with a grin and pointed to the details that he had seen but never truly looked at.

He was shocked to find small scenes carved into the wood, starting with what looked like the attack on Erebor. Him leading Erebor's soldiers into battle again the monster. Leading his people as they travelled across Middle-Earth to find a home again. The Battle of Azanulbizar. Him taking Azogs arm. Becoming King of Durin's folk. The marriage of Dis. The birth of Fili and then Kili. The prosperous times of Ered Luin. The forming of The Company.

Fili handed him the other crutch, where he found the rest of the story continued. Their arrival at Bag End, The Trolls, Rivendell, The Goblin Tunnels, Beorns house, Mirkwood and their imprisonment. Escaping to Lake-Town, their arrival in Erebor. Fighting in The Battle of the Five Armies. Thorin killing Azog.

“Bifur carved your _life_ into these.”

Thorin was stunned. This had been beautifully done. Thorin didn't know how Bifur had managed it, especially with this level of detail, but he was truly humbled. Bifur must have slaved away for weeks to get these ready for him. Thorin had only been without his for two. Thorin realized with a sinking heart that this required at least a months worth of work.

“Bifur always knew I was going to lose my leg, didn't he?” he asked quietly.

Fili and Kili shared a look, then nodded. “He said he knew a deadly injury when he saw one.  
Fili explained softly. “He knew what would have to be done in the end if you were to survive. He didn't tell anyone he was making them until after you had lost it though. He was hoping he would be wrong.”

Thorin looked back down at the crutches, a sad smile on his face. “I suppose he's the best out of all of us to face reality when it comes to a life-threatening injury.”

Fili and Kili's silence was their agreement with him. He sighed, carefully putting the crutches back agains his bedside table. “I have to find a way to reward him properly.”

Kili shook his head in disagreement. “Your thanks is enough for him. He has one thirteenth of the share of gold and he hasn't even got the foggiest idea of what to do with it.”

Thorin shook his head. “No, he deserves more. His own shop, unlimited access to whatever he needs for his craft, something. This is a gift for a greater King than I and he deserves everything I can give him.”

Fili let out a puff of smoke. “You are mistaken Uncle. This wasn't a gift from a citizen to his King. This was a gift from a friend to a friend. He did it because he cares for you. He expects nothing in return and wants nothing in return.”

Thorin still felt like he owed Bifur everything. After the way he had acted.....he owed the entire company everything. He was still ashamed to have allowed the gold to take him over so easily. Not his grandfather indeed. He was no better. He would find a way to pay Bifur back. He'd have to talk to Balin to do what he had in mind, but it was everything the old dwarf deserved and more.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Thorin glared at the crutches being held out to him. As promised Oin had returned after lunch, telling him that after this he could rest for the remainder of the day. He'd done well, moving a bit easier and he'd stumbled only a handful of times. Fili and Kili had offered him nothing but encouragement and several questionable jokes the entire time, while Oin looking on with a proud smile.

Now Bilbo was holding the crutches out to him, Dwalin standing behind the hobbit with his arms crossed with a very grouchy look on his face. Both had been noticeably absent during his attempts to use his crutches and Thorin didn't know whether to be offended or grateful at that. He had hoped he would have the additional support from them when he first used them, but on the other hand, he had wanted as few people to witness the humiliation as possible. He still couldn't decide how he felt and realized he would probably never know unless they had actually been there with him.

He was grateful that both Fili and Kili had adamantly refused to leave his side during it all. When he'd asked Fili after the second round of humiliation why they had both stayed, the lad had simply replied, “You helped us learn how to walk. Now it's our turn to help you learn.”

Thorin couldn't help but chuckle at the reminder of that, thinking of a long ago time when the lads had happily toddled about holding his hands, putting their tiny feet on his boots so they could walk around with him. It had brought a smile to his face, Fili and Kili grinning when they had asked what was so funny. He had simply shaken his head and said it was nothing, just an old dwarf caught up in his memories.

He gave Bilbo a suspicious look. “Why?” Thorin demanded to know. “I've already done my practice for the day and my arms are sore.”

Bilbo shoved the crutches into his hands. “You're not going far and it's important that you come. It's Yule! You don't get to just stay shut up in your room all day long.” He walked off, looking for something under the mounds of clothing and random books scattered about Thorin's room.

Thorin righted his crutches, holding them to his side. “What if I don't want to go?” he asked petulantly. He really wasn't in the mood to go anywhere and he knew Bilbo was up to something. He'd had enough bad surprises in his lifetime that to him there was absolutely no such thing as a good surprise.

Bilbo shoved aside a pile of clothes, making a successful noise as he pulled out Thorin's old boots from under it. Thorin cringed at the thought of only being able to wear one from now on. He hated it. Bilbo pointed to Dwalin as he inspected the boots. “That's what he's for.”

Thorin gave Dwalin a sharp look. He knew just how much Thorin hated surprises and this was in Thorin's eyes a traitorous offense. Dwalin shot a glare at Bilbo in return. “ _What_ the smart ass actually means, is that he blackmailed me into this.”

“What did you do that warrants a hobbit's blackmail?” Thorin demanded.

“Never you mind,” Bilbo said, walking over and plopping down in front of Thorin. “Now give me your foot so we can get you ready to go.”

Thorin snatched the boot out of Bilbo's hands, allowing his crutches to clatter to the ground. “I lost a leg, I'm not an invalid,” he growled dangerously. “I am more than capable of putting my own boots on.”

Bilbo was wise enough to not correct Thorin on the plural use of 'boots' and backed off. Thorin shoved his left foot into the boot, lacing it up and tightening it. If he tightened it a bit more than usual, that was no one's business but his own. He didn't need it flying off while he was trying to maneuver around the mountain. He leaned down a bit more, picking up his crutches from where they had fallen and controlling the urge to accidentally whack Bilbo with them.

He put one of the crutches on the bed and used the other to heave himself up. He and Oin had worked for a good half hour on figuring out the best way for him to get himself up, finally thinking that this one would work the best. Oin said that when he got his strength back up in his leg he would probably be able to get himself out of bed without having to rely on his crutches at all so long as he learned to balance himself.

Dwalin had moved forward to assist him, but Thorin stopped him with a glare. If he didn't need help, then he wasn't going to ask for it or allow it to be given. He had to figure this out on his own or he would never have his independence again. He could do this on his own. He picked up the second crutch, positioning it and carefully finding his balance.

“Fine. You get your way. Now, _where_ are we going?” Thorin asked. “And where are Fili and Kili? I know you have them doing something for you.”

“They're helping to get ready for Yule,” Bilbo replied. “Which means cleaning themselves up and making sure they look presentable.”

Thorin scowled slightly. “They looked perfectly fine when they left. They've been up and about on their own for over a week without needing anyone's help.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement as he circled Thorin. “Yes, they did. I just wanted them to make sure they actually changed their clothes. Kili's been wearing that same tunic for the past three days.”

“Because it's the warmest one he _has_ ,” he argued. “We won't have new clothes until the trade routes clear in spring. The lad absolutely hates being cold.”

“That's fine, but he has to at least get the wrinkles out of it. He's a prince and he should look like one.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, taking a careful step forward. “Just lead the way to whatever surprise you have Bilbo. I'm not in the mood to play games.”

Bilbo sputtered a bit, giving Thorin an irritated look before stomping across the room and opening the door. He tapped his foot as he waited for Thorin and Dwalin to meet him, slamming the door shut behind them when they finally made their way out. Both dwarves cringed, knowing just how annoying an ill-tempered hobbit was.

Bilbo led the way, muttering under his breath, no doubt about just how terrible all dwarves were. Thorin managed to catch a few words and they definitely weren't in his or Dwalin's favor. Bilbo did make it a point to go slower than he usually did though, doing his utmost to take the best paths for Thorin so that he wouldn't stumble over anything. They had to stop several times so that Thorin could catch his breath, he was still so unused to going great distances on his crutches.

“How far is this blasted place?” Thorin gasped out, feeling sweat starting to break out on his forehead. “You said it wasn't far!”

Bilbo nodded. “It's not. You're just not used to the distance yet. It's just down this hall here.”

Thorin looked up, just now noticing the noise and light that was coming from the end of the hall. “Bilbo, how _many_ people are in there?” It was impossible for The Company to be making that much noise.

Bilbo shrugged his shoulders. “The Company, Dain, and all of Dain's soldiers that could attend.”

“WHAT?” Thorin immediately made to turn around, ready to get out of there as fast as possible. He was not stumbling into a room where everyone could see him, could see this embarrassment. Dwalin grabbed him by his shoulders though, holding him in place and preventing him from leaving. “I am not going in there!” He yelled out, wishing he could stomp on Dwalin's foot. “They are not seeing me like this!”

Dwalin didn't let Thorin go, but he glared at Bilbo, his face unforgiving. “I told you that he wouldn't like this, especially since you didn't even bother to tell him.”

“It's supposed to be a surprise!” Bilbo argued back. “The Company is his family, Dain's his cousin, and Dain's men fought beside him during the battle. They won't think less of him for having lost his leg.” He walked up to Dwalin and roughly poked him in the chest. “ _You_ told me how he used to do this every Yule, throw a feast and talk with all of his people to show that he was more than just a King, he was a fellow dwarf and friend to them all. This is no different.”

“That was done under his instruction and his terms. Not a surprise that a hobbit threw and didn't let him know about. What if wasn't ready to show himself to the public? Did you ever think about that?”

  
Bilbo was right up in Dwalin's face now. “Yes, I did! I thought that it would be best for him to continue his tradition, for surely knowledge of it has traveled to the Iron Hills. What would Dain's men think if Thorin didn't come down? He's only been seen by us since he was injured! Half of them probably think he's dead, thanks to some vile rumors I know have started. This is the best way for him to show that he is healthy and on his way to a full recovery!”

“Stop talking about me as if I'm not here!” Thorin yelled, unable to take it anymore. “I can make my own decisions!”

Bilbo and Dwalin looked at him, their faces coloring as they realized their mistake. Bilbo took a step back, visibly trying to calm himself back down. Dwalin was trying to put in the effort, but he didn't like upsetting Thorin. He was his oldest friend and he hated having to keep this secret from Thorin.

“You had no right to keep this from me, Bilbo,” he said angrily. “I should have known.”

Bilbo sighed and nodded in defeat. “I'll agree to that, but you would have never agreed to this if I had asked beforehand. This was the best way I could do it.”

“I am the King of Durin's Folk. Nothing should ever be kept from me,” he countered. “I'm supposed to know of everything going on in this mountain. Just as Fili and Kili should. Did they know of this and not tell me?”

Both Dwalin and Bilbo shook their heads. “No,” Dwalin assured. “They knew nothing of this. Not until we had them brought down an hour ago. Don't hold them to blame.”

Thorin took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “I don't.” He looked at Bilbo. “ _You_ , however, are banned from throwing any more surprise parties.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes but nodded. He would agree to Thorin's wishes....for now.

“Uncle!” All three of them looked up to see Fili and Kili half walking, half running towards them.

“Boys, stop running!” Bilbo scolded them, but they ignored him.

They skidded to a halt in front of Thorin, Kili practically bouncing on his feet. “Uncle, you have to see! I don't know how Bombur managed it, but he has a feast laid out. A real feast! With roasted boar, vegetables, fish, even pies! It's fantastic!”

Fili nodded along with his brother. “You have to come inside! We can't start without you after all.”

Thorin felt himself melt at the sight of their faces. They were so excited and so innocent. Every year they looked forward to the great feast he threw. It was a tradition he had started when they had first settled Ered Luin, the boys always eager to help him plan it when they grew old enough to. It was a true Durin tradition, with the entire family helping to plan it out and make sure that everyone had a good time. Fili and Kili were always trying to throw in a surprise, something special to make it different from the previous years' celebrations.

Swallowing all of his shame and embarrassment, he nodded. He would do this if only to make sure that his nephews kept smiling. Dwalin squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, giving his cousin a warm smile as he let go. Thorin turned himself back around, slowly making his way towards the end of the hall. He started shaking as the voices grew louder, so terrified that they would laugh at him when he walked through the door.

After what seemed an eternity, they made it to the door. He took a deep breath and held his head up high. Even if he didn't feel like a King right now, he would make himself appear as nothing less than one. He took a few more steps inside, pausing when the room went silent. The Company was all sitting together at one table, plus Dain. Dain's men were either sitting at tables, on broken slabs of stone or standing around the room, almost all of them with an ale in hand. Now how in Arda had Bombur managed that?

Dain stood up, raising his ale and loudly proclaimed, “Long live the King!”

The rest of the hall stood, raising their ales and with a deafening noise of agreement repeated, “Long live the King!”

Thorin couldn't have stopped the smile from coming to his face any more than he could have stopped the sun from rising. He continued forward towards the table where The Company and Dain were sitting, Dain's men cheering as he passed them, offering loud encouragements and praises. He sat down in the chair offered to him by Balin, his old friend taking his crutches and hooking them on his chair. Picking up the ale sitting in front of him, he raised it with a grin. “Let the feast begin!”

With loud cheers of agreement, ales were raised and smashed together as the dwarves helped themselves to the food in the hall, coins already being thrown about as bets were placed on who would eat the most, drink the most, or start the most brawls. A typical dwarven feast. Food was brought to him and he happily dug in, savoring the rich, spicy boar meat on his plate. Some vegetables were thrown down on his plate as well and he looked up to glare at Bilbo. The hobbit smiled innocently at him, his eyes darting down to the offending green things. “Don't forget to eat those.”

  
“What are you, my mother?” Thorin asked, pushing the offensive things to the edge of his plate. “Eat the vegetables if you want, but I won't. Maybe if you had been nice enough to tell me about this beforehand I would have been more open to eating them.”

“You brat.”

“King's right.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes and proceeded to plop the vegetables onto everyone's plate at the table, including Dain's. Ori looked absolutely traumatized as if the vegetables would contaminate his meat simply by touching them. Nori laughed at his poor brothers face, while Dori encouraged him to simply try it. Dwalin was sitting across from Ori, laughing at the dwarves face, which earned him an irritated look from Ori.

Dain was talking with Bofur, discussing some of the best ways to possibly restore the mines and get them working once more. All dwarves had a given trade, even the mightiest of Lords and Kings. Before he had taken over his fathers place as Lord of the Iron Hills, he had been in charge of the mines and he still took an avid interest in them, personally inspecting them every month with the foremen. Thorin had promised Bofur the mines when they took Erebor and Bofur had not been disappointed. He had helped in the mines back in the Blue Mountains, with plenty of men loyal to him. He personally made sure that all of his men earned a fair wage and never went hungry, meaning that many would come to Erebor.

Fili and Kili were happily talking to Bifur, eager to learn everything that the old dwarf knew that he was no longer limited to Khuzdul. The lads understood it of course, but it was a language that took at least a century to master, with them still being about two decades away from that mastery.

It was a welcome sight to see all of The Company together once more, he'd been apart from them all for far too long. They'd all been busy working on the restoration of Erebor while he'd been confined to his bed, it had been no surprise that most visits to him had been brief. He brought his ale to his lips, privately smiling to himself as he took a swig.

Bilbo reappeared before him, holding out his hand for Thorin's cup. He held it out to Bilbo, who refilled it for him. “Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea,” he reluctantly agreed. Bilbo gave him a triumphant smile in return. “But for future parties, let us agree that I get to have at least a full day's notice.”

Bilbo let out a low laugh and nodded. “Fair enough.” He set down the pitcher and took a seat beside Bofur, offering Thorin a kind smile as he turned to join in the conversation the miner was having with Dain.

Thorin looked behind him, unsurprised to find Dwalin standing behind him and Balin. He had an ale in his hand, but his eyes were ever diligent, watching over the whole of The Company. “Help me up,” he said quietly. Dwalin nodded, taking Thorin's crutches and handing one to him. It took a small amount of maneuvering to get himself back up again, but he managed to do it on his own. He held onto his chair as Dwalin handed his crutches over to him, quickly putting them under his arms and finding his balance. Moving around the table proved to be somewhat challenging, but he did it without tripping or falling over anything, which was currently a win in his book.

He smiled warmly at Dain's men as he approached a small group of them, all of them bowing their heads in respect until he was standing before them. Reaching out, he clapped the nearest dwarf on the shoulder. “I hope everything it to your liking.”

The dwarves all nodded in agreement. “Aye, Your Majesty. Best ale I've had in a long while. It's a good night when one is able to spend the time with one's friends without fear of battle.”

“You honor us with your presence, Your Majesty,” another dwarf said quietly. Thorin looked at this one curiously, as he looked barely older than his nephews. It was possible he was actually younger. The dwarf met his gaze without flinching. He could see the youth in those eyes, the innocence still there even after the brutal battle.

“The honor is mine,” he replied with a kind smile. “You fought while I sat in this Mountain and then rallied to me when I came to my senses. You are honorable and loyal dwarves.”

The dwarves didn't flinch at the mention of Thorin's gold sickness and he was glad for it. For all of the dwarves many faults, any dwarf could respect another who owned up to his mistakes and had set them right. There was no shame for him to have fallen.

“Join us for an ale,” the first dwarf said, grabbing an empty tankard from the table and filling it from one of the many barrels scattered across the hall.

“Gladly.” Thorin took the offered ale, ignoring Dwalin's huff behind him. Smashing the ales together, they all laughed and took a swig. It was a welcome sound, one that was familiar to him after so long in all this unfamiliarity. Even though he had never celebrated with these dwarves before, it was like being back in Ered Luin once again, almost as if nothing had happened.

After sharing the ale with the few soldiers, the rest formed a circle around Thorin, happily talking with their king, making jokes and sharing more than one toast. Soon enough Fili and Kili joined him, meeting with the soldiers they might one day command. With their easy-going personalities, they easily mingled about, learning names and making promises to join the men on the training grounds as soon as Oin cleared them. Many of the dwarves they talked to mentioned how they were volunteering to stay behind in Erebor after Dain left so that they might form the beginning of Erebor's army until Thorin's men from Ered Luin arrived in the spring. Thorin found himself truly touched by the gesture, as he knew just how loyal Dain's men were to him.

The night grew late and his arms began to grow sore from the crutches. He hoped it was only a temporary problem, one that would go away the more he used them. He had to suppress a wince as he moved forward to keep pace with Fili and Kili, his underarms starting to feel incredibly sensitive. Fili looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his nephew nodding a second later and disappearing. Kili looked to where Fili had disappeared off to, then looked to Thorin. His smiled faded as he realized his Uncle's exhaustion, moving to stand beside him and offering him his silent support.

“Do you need to rest?” he asked quietly, his words almost a whisper so that only Thorin could hear them.

Thorin nodded, knowing better than to hide this from his nephew. Kili looked around, trying to find his brother as he stood by Thorin's side. Thorin wavered a bit, and Kili immediately moved to steady him. The dwarves around them noticed, their faces concerned as they moved to form a circle around them.

“Is everything okay Your Highness?” one asked Kili quietly.

Kili nodded his smile once again on his face. “Perfectly fine. My Uncle is just tired is all.”

Fili reappeared that moment with Bilbo beside him. They easily pushed their way through the wall of dwarves and going to Thorin's side. Fili went to his Uncle's free side and offered the group of dwarves a warm smile. “If you'll excuse us, I'm afraid that we're going to call it a night. My brother and I are still healing, just as my uncle is and we all need our rest.”

Thorin smiled to himself. Dis had taught Fili well. Fili and Kili stayed by his side as they left the hall, his breathing becoming more labored as the pain in his arms suddenly began to grow exponentially. They turned the corner and he had to stop, breathing hard as he leaned against the wall and throwing the crutches down.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked carefully. “What's wrong? Is it your leg?”

He shook his head, unable to even lift his arms up. “My arms. The crutches are hurting them. They feel like they're about to fall off.”

Fili and Kili moved forward in unison, carefully taking their Uncle's arms and drawing them over their shoulders. He hissed, gritting his teeth as bolts of pain ran through his arms at the movement, but after a few moments, it passed to just a dull throb. “Let's get you back to your rooms,” Bilbo said, picking up the crutches from the ground. Fili and Kili moved forward slowly, bearing the majority of their Uncles weight as he did his best to keep up with them. It was a bit awkward, but it was better than the unforgiving wood under his arms.

They finally made it back to Thorin's room, Fili and Kili helping Thorin to his bed and gently easing him down. He let out a groan as they carefully lowered his arms down, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the tension.

“I'll talk to Bifur in the morning.” Bilbo leaned the crutches against Thorin's bedside table. “See if he can find a way to attach some padding to the handles.”

Thorin nodded, not really caring at this point. All he cared was that they were no longer under his arms and causing him pain. He carefully moved back on the bed until he was leaning against his pillow, leaning forward slightly to unlace his boot and throw it across the room.

Fili and Kili were watching him carefully, worry etched across their faces. “We have to find a way to get it done faster,” Kili whispered, low enough that only Fili would hear him.

“We don't have enough mithril to do it yet,” Fili replied sadly. “We only have half of what we need until amad arrives with the rest.”

“This isn't right. He won't be able to get around with just crutches, not if they're hurting him like this.”

“She won't be here for months, not until the fall if she's leading the caravans. We'll have to find a way to help him make do until then and keep searching the treasury until we have enough or she arrives. Bifur will do his best to make the crutches more comfortable and we can go from their.”

Kili shook his head, pulling the sketchbook from the inner pocket of his jacket and thumbing through it. “I wish we could find a way to make do with less, but we're already at the bare minimum. Any less and it won't work.” Fili looked at the sketchbook, smiling softly at the beautiful designs Kili had come up with.

“We'll find a way Kili.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

Thorin grunted as he pushed against the block of rock in front of him, the slab of metal he was lying on moving with him. Dwalin was standing behind the rock, his arms crossed as he kept a careful eye on his king. He and Bofur had put together the machine so that Thorin could work the muscles in his good leg and build up his strength in it. It was a difficult exercise, one he hated with a bloody passion. The first day he'd only been able to do ten repetitions of it before his leg had given out from exhaustion. That had been a week ago. Now he was able to do about twenty before his leg gave out.

He counted to five in his head, then slowly bent his knee to bring him back down. He let out a groan as he threw his head back. “Done.”

Dwalin smiled, uncrossing his arms as Thorin pushed himself up and moved to grab his crutches. Dwalin snatched them up first, pointing to the ground in front of him instead. “Stretch first, then you can have these.”

Thorin groaned again, flopping back down on the ground and beginning his stretches to cool the muscles back down. It was better than doing the blasted machine at least. It was a half hour process, which gave him plenty of time to let his mind wander as he observed the dwarrows on the training grounds. It was still littered with massive boulders from the dragons comings and goings, but the rest of the rubble had been cleared away. It had been one of the first areas to be cleaned up so that everyone might have access to an outlet for any frustrations they might have with the rebuilding process. It was also good so that the dwarves could get to know each other better.

Dwarves were scattered about, some sparring, others sharpening weapons, while others were simply chatting. Thorin smirked as he caught sight of Nori jumping from boulder to boulder, always working to make sure he was the fastest and best Spymaster in all of Middle-Earth.

“How's it feeling?” Dwalin asked, sitting down in front of Thorin with a whetstone and his axes.

“Which one?”

Dwalin gave him an unamused look as he ran the whetstone over Grasper's blade. “Don't sass me. I get enough of that from _your_ nephews.”

Thorin rolled his eyes as he put his foot in the loop of a long rope, straightening his leg out and then pulling on the rope to stretch it out. “They're both fine.” He looked down to where his stump was. “It still feels like it's their sometimes, but that's happening less and less. The itches are the worst. Their's nothing to scratch but you swear it's there.”

Dwalin's brow creased. He'd heard of such things but had never know if there was a solution. “What did Oin say?”

“Their's a trick with a mirror that he suggested. To make it look like I'm scratching my missing one.” Thorin frowned as he lowered his leg for a few seconds, giving it a break between repetitions. “It helped actually. I didn't think it would.”

He raised his leg up again, pulling on the rope a bit tighter to stretch it further.

“Higher,” Dwalin instructed. “You need to stretch it more.” He nodded towards Thorin's good leg. “How about that one? Any issues so far?”

Thorin shook his head as he did as Dwalin asked. “Nothing terrible. Some soreness, but nothing that wasn't expected. The beginning was the worst, now it only lasts for an hour or two after I leave.”

“Good, that's progress.”

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Dwalin occasionally correcting his stretches as he kept one eye on Thorin. It was a peaceful time for Thorin, as the newly formed council was expressly forbidden from bothering him when he was on the training ground unless they wanted knives thrown at them.

He smiled as he saw Fili and Kili walk onto the grounds, giving them both a warning look as they looked longingly at the other dwarrows wielding weapons. They were still banned from straining themselves on Oin's orders for another few weeks and they were feeling the loss of their weapons every moment of it. They were only allowed to carry knives on themselves, Oin threatening to throw their weapons into the deepest pit he could find in Erebor if he caught them with them again before he cleared them.

They sat down on either side of Dwalin, Fili holding out his hands for Grasper. Dwalin handed his beloved ax over as well as the whetstone, knowing it would help ease the loss they were feeling. Reaching behind him, he pulled Keeper over and handed him to Kili, as well as his spare whetstone. Visibly thrilled, the boys happily began sharpening them.

“How was the meeting?” Thorin asked Fili.

Fili gave an especially strong swipe of the whetstone against Graspers blade. “Terrible. Dain's men are some of the whiniest brats I've ever heard and I grew up with Kili.”

“Hey!”

Fili rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.” He looked up at Thorin for a moment as he paused in sharpening Grasper. “All they want to focus on is reopening the mines again. Not Erebor's restoration, just the mines.”

Thorin lowered his leg down. “Why would that be their focus? The mines aren't even stable from what Bofur has told me. The apartments need to be cleaned and restored so that we can move everyone out of the main hall and into them. The great gates need to be reforged. The gates from the forges can be melted down for that and on top of that, the forges need to be cleaned and restored as well. Half of the restoration in this mountain can't be done without them being operational! And they want to focus on the mines?”

Kili nodded this time. “They claim it's of the utmost importance.” He scoffed. “As if. They just want to make themselves look better.”

Thorin was now thoroughly confused. “What do you mean?”

Kili gave a strong scrape of the whetstone against Keeper, strong enough to earn a smack to the head from Dwalin. “Watch the blade lad.” Kili nodded, pausing for a moment as he took a breath to calm himself.

“They want to be the ones to make your prosthetic.”

Thorin was dumbstruck. That was their concern? His missing leg? “What?!”

Fili gripped his whetstone as he looked up to Thorin. “It's all they can talk about. That you need a prosthetic so that you can be the King they know you are.”

“I don't need a leg to be a King,” he seethed. “I find myself in need of a new council though.”

Fili and Kili smiled knowingly at each other. “We're already working on that,” Fili assured Thorin, “but for now, they're in power and it's all they want. Each of them wants to be the one to forge you a prosthetic and gain your undying gratitude.”

“I'm doing fine on my crutches and I don't need a leg to get around. We'll get to that eventually, but for now, I am more than fine doing without one. What does Dain have to say about this? Was this their priority when he lost his foot as well?”

Kili shook his head. “Dain's just as frustrated with them as we are, but since they have the majority of the voice they can override us, despite our station. He said that they were just as bad when he lost his, but he couldn't stop them at all. The Iron Hill's were flourishing and they didn't have our current problems to deal with. He had one within days despite his protests.”

Thorin shook his head as well. “Utterly ridiculous.” He looked to Fili. “You're regent in my stead. What have they said to you?”

Fili scoffed this time. “They don't see me a regent. To them, I'm still a Prince in exile, one who was raised to leniently and knows nothing of court life. Even with Dain's support, they fight me at every turn.” He looked up at Thorin, his face full of fury. “I'm nothing to them.”

Thorin could feel his blood boiling. This council was playing a fine line with high treason and it was a crime he would not tolerate.

“I was able to shut them up about the mines, but it's going to come up again soon. They all want to gain royal favor. Dain is Lord of the Iron Hills, but they want to cultivate the favor of the King of Erebor, the King of all Dwarves. The direct descendant of Durin.” He laughed miserably as he slid the whetstone against Graspers blade again. “I'm ready to throw them from the ramparts, civility be damned.”

“I'll help you,” Kili offered, smiling darkly.

Thorin looked to Dwalin, who was smiling proudly at the lads. “Not if I beat you to it.”

“Dwalin!”

The old dwarf just shrugged, not caring in the least. Balin was the one for politics, not him.

“I'll be at the next meeting and we'll take care of this then,” Thorin assured both of his nephews. “I've had enough of this council.”

They both nodded in unison, exchanging a look and then returning to their task of sharpening the weapons in front of them.

“What are you two planning?” he asked, his suspicion rising. He knew that look and it rarely meant something good.

“Nothing,” they both chimed innocently.

“Mahal's great hammer,” Dwalin said. “What are you up to? If you set fire to another nobles robes you're in for a world of hurt and your mother isn't here to save you this time.”

“First of all,” Kili said, “that was _her_ idea. Second of all, we've grown up since then. Our plans are much more sophisticated now.”

Thorin put his face in his hands. “I don't want to know.”

The lads snickered and he could practically hear his hair turning grey.

“Don't worry Uncle, it's not what you think,” Kili assured him.

Thorin groaned as he pulled himself up to sit on the bench behind him, holding out his hands for his crutches. Dwalin passed them to him and he easily stood up. The lads clamored to their feet, carefully holding Grasper and Keeper as they did so. Dwalin held out his hands for the axes, which the lads reluctantly relinquished. He smiled at them both, knowing just how bad the lads wanted to train again. “Soon enough lads,” Dwalin assured them as he put his beloved axes into place on his back.

Thorin smiled at the lads, knowing just how hard it was to be denied something you loved. Their wounds had healed on the outside, but Oin was still concerned about them reopening internally. It would cause the lads to bleed to death before Oin could even help them.

The four of them left the training grounds, walking at Thorin's pace as they made their way through Erebor. Dain's dwarves were milling about the halls, many of them nodding their heads in the royals direction as they made their way back to the Royal Halls. Thorin could practically feel Erebor vibrating with energy as the dwarves rushed about to restore Erebor. It was a good feeling to have, to know that his home was being restored, knowing that in a few short months the first caravans would arrive to bring their people home.

Which reminded him that he had yet to send a letter to Dís and he cringed at the thought. “By any chance have either of you sent a letter to your mother since we've arrived?”

Both lads stopped dead in their tracks and looked at each other, hoping the other would say they had.

Dwalin chuckled. “Looks like Dain might still be King after all.”

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

_Dearest Brother,_

_Who do you think you are? King of Durin's folk or not, how dare you make me wait a month for a letter from you?! I had to find out you were alive from Master Baggins! He was the only one out of all of you that actually had the common courtesy to let me know that my brain-dead brother and reckless sons were still alive! We will be having words as soon as I arrive in Erebor, you can be sure of that! And another thing! My boys write me three pages each, describing their adventures and reassuring me how they're safe. And you give me, “Bring our people home.” Oh, I know granddad taught you better than that you imbecile! I don't even get an apology for making your poor sister age a decade while she waited to hear news of her family?!_

_You're a dead dwarf when I finally get a hold of you. I'll write you later. I can't deal with your stupidity right now._

_Your ever loving sister_

 

Fili and Kili were howling on the floor with laughter while Thorin scowled at the letter in his hands. Typical Dís. She would have ripped him a new one no matter how he had worded the letter. Better to let her rant than have her hold her anger in. That never ended well for anyone.

“Don't you two have a meeting to be in?” He growled out, folding the letter up and tucking it in his tunic.

“The same one you're supposed to be in,” Kili retorted, picking himself up off the ground and brushing the dust off his jacket. “You're the King. They can't get much done without you.” He smirked as he tugged his tunic back into place. “Not like they can get much done anyway.”

Fili smirked in return. “They'll learn their lesson soon enough.”

Thorin rolled his eyes as he straightened his tunic and stood up. He didn't even have to think as he found his balance, the movement that was completely foreign to him just a few weeks ago now second nature to him. “Let's go. I don't want to hear them complain any more than I have to.”

They nodded in unison, falling into step beside him as they left the Royal Halls, two of Dain's guards trailing them as they made their way through Erebor. Thorin knew the lads found their new shadows irritating, though they had yet to voice any complaints about the new safety measure. They'd never had guards back in Ered Luin and found it ridiculous that Dwalin insisted on it. Thorin himself was used to having a personal guard, as he'd had a very loyal guard back before Smaug had taken Erebor from them. He had perished in dragon's fire, pushing Thorin out of the way at the cost of his own life. It was a sacrifice he'd never forgotten.

Thorin had no doubts about the guards' loyalty to his family, but there needed to be a bond between the lads and their guards. Such a bond would form when Oin finally cleared the lads for training, which he said would happen at the end of January. It was dwarven custom for a guard to train with their charge, to learn how they fought so that they would be able to work together if they came under attack.

The three of them chatted together as the guards followed them silently, commenting on how quickly the restoration crews had cleared Erebor of the massive piles of rubble that had littered the floor when they'd first arrived. Walking past The Gallery of the Kings, Thorin smiled as he watched the dwarves chiseling away spatters of gold on the wall, others polishing the stone to a smooth finish as they attempted to repair the damage Smaug had done in his rampage through Erebor.

Thorin was only slightly winded when they arrived at the council room, two more guards closing the doors behind them as they entered the room. The council members stood up and bowed to them, Fili and Kili's eyes flicking to those who didn't bow low enough to be considered respectful, but saying nothing.

They nodded in return to the council as they walked to the front of the table, Dwalin approaching from where he had been standing near the wall. Thorin handed his crutches to him before he took his seat, Dwalin hooking them over the edge of Thorin's seat. Fili and Kili took their seats after he did, the rest of the council remaining standing. It wasn't lost on any of the council members that Thorin had purposefully not given his permission for them to take their seats, but they said nothing.

Thorin had a small smile on his face as he watched the council, taking a small amount of joy in watching them squirm under his gaze. He was ready to take control of the council, whether they liked it or not. Fili and Kili had their gazes firmly fixed on the council as well, their faces wiped of all emotion as they waited for Balin and Ori to arrive.

“My King,” one lord began after several moments of silence. “Do we have your permission to begin this meeting?”

Thorin looked at the dwarf, who wasn't even bothering to hide his annoyance. “I will not be leading this meeting. I have been absent for much longer than I anticipated as I've recovered from my injuries. Fili will lead this meeting, as he has been leading them in my stead. So if you want permission, seek it from him.”

The dwarf visibly bristled and Thorin glared at him. “Surely His Highness has kept you up to speed on all of our meetings? So you would be able to lead this one.” The dwarf threw a nasty glare at Fili, who said nothing in return.

“Fili comes to me after every council meeting to discuss them. It's my decision to have him continue to lead meetings, my presence or no.” He raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “Unless you doubt my heirs' competence?”

The dwarf shot another dirty look to Fili but remained silent.

“I believe my Uncle, The King Under the Mountain, is waiting for your answer,” Fili said cooly.

The dwarfs fists clenched, his eyes full of hatred and fire. “I have no objections to Fili, Prince Under the Mountain, leading these proceedings.”

“Good.”

Seething, the dwarf looked to Fili. “Do we have permission to start this meeting Your Highness?”

“No. We're still waiting on Balin, Ori, and I believe that Bilbo will be joining us as well.”

Thorin glanced at Fili but hid his surprise. He hadn't been aware that Bilbo was in on this plan as well.

“The Scribe and the Burglar? Are they really necessary for this council? The Scribe is of common birth and of little importance. I question the Burglars right to continue to reside in Erebor as well. He stole our greatest treasure and he faces no consequences for it, except for receive one-fourteenth of Erebor's gold.”

Thorin's glare would have killed the Valar themselves. “You will not question their right to be here. Ori chronicled our Quest with immense detail and if I recall correctly, he _volunteered_ to go on this Quest, knowing full well he might die during it. You sat in your halls, safe from harm. And you _will_ address Bilbo Baggins will all the respect that he is rightfully due. He helped us win back our home. He went into the treasury alone and challenged a dragon. We would not have Erebor now if he hadn't come with us. We would be dead or worse.”

He turned his glare to the rest of his council. “Does anyone else have any arguments?”

Several of them shared looks, but they remained silent. Only one dwarf was brave enough to answer him. “No....no other arguments, Your Majesty.”

Thorin softened his glare for a moment, but he refused to let his guard down. This council had worked against Fili, challenging him at every turn and by doing so had indirectly challenged his authority. He would not let them get away with it.

The doors opened a few minutes later, admitting Bilbo, Ori, and Balin. Balin was smiling sweetly, nodding to the members of the council as he walked past them to his seat beside Fili, while Ori followed behind him quietly, his face determined. Bilbo's face was a mask that was impossible to read except to those who knew him. To the council he looked completely impassive to being present, but to the members of the company he looked absolutely furious. Bilbo came to stand beside Thorin, offering the King a soft smile before his face returned to it's previous look.

“I do apologize for our tardiness. We got caught up in the library,” Bilbo said smoothly. “Fili, I believe that we are ready to begin, with your permission of course.”

Fili nodded. “Please begin Master Baggins.”

“I believe that Balin and Ori will be starting this meeting today.”

Balin and Ori respectfully bowed to Fili, who gave them a warm smile as he nodded in agreement. “We've come to discuss the terrible manners of this council during the past few weeks and the consequences of their actions.”

The Council was immediately in an uproar, Thorin rolling his eyes and slamming his fist down on the stone table in front of him. “Silence!”

They finally shut up a few moments later, glaring at Fili when he stood up and he openly glared at all of them. “You have done nothing but disrespect me since I took over as Regent while my Uncle, the King Under the Mountain, has healed. You undermine me at every turn, looking out only for yourselves. Your goals have been to further your positions here in Erebor, since you cannot advance any more in the Iron Hills. I have had enough. You disrespected _me_. You disrespected _my brother._ But then you dared to disrespect our _King_. And that, My Lords, is something that will not happen again.” He looked over his shoulder. “Ori, will you explain to them what you found in your library?”

“'His library?!”

Fili's glare was murderous. “Quiet!"

Ori walked forward, handing the three Royals a small stack of paper that on further inspection, Thorin found to be detailed copies of Erebor's council rules, written in Ori's impeccable hand. “Kept safe from Smaug's wrath,” Ori began steadily, “The old rules of Erebor's Council. You have all violated multiple rules, but only one has the consequence of immediate dismissal. Thankfully, you have all violated that one, so this will make this council an incredibly short meeting.”

Thorin smiled at Ori's nerve. He was a far cry from the shy scribe that had left Ered Luin with them all those months ago. Dori would probably have a heart attack when he heard how his brother so boldly spoke to them, but every member of his company was now a lord in their own right.

“The first rule of this council is as follows: 'The members of this council will always work for the bettering of Erebor. Her dwarves, her well-being, will always be first in their minds. If a dwarf fails in that task, they are no longer deserving of serving her.'” Ori was clearly trying to hide his smirk as he finished and looked over the council.

“Thank you, Ori,” Kili said kindly, not bothering to hide his smirk as he looked up from the paper in his hands. “So as you might see, _My Lords_ , you have violated the first rule of this council and you are no longer worthy of serving Erebor. You are all dismissed.”

The uproar was to be expected, Dwalin having placed extra guards in the room for this very reason.

“You can't do this!”

“You need a council to help rule Erebor!”

“You would dare to cast aside those who would support your rule?”

“None of you has the right to question our decisions anymore,” Kili angrily answered them. “Several members of The Company have volunteered to join this council, and we will fill the remaining positions as dwarves arrive from the Blue Mountains.”

“They aren't of noble blood! They have no place on this council!”

Fili shook his head as he relaxed back in his chair. “They are of noble blood. That was part of their contracts when they volunteered to go with us, as well as their share of Erebor's gold.”

“You might ennoble them, but they will still be nothing more than the common people. They have no right to this council!”

  
Thorin sat back in his chair as well. He'd had enough. He raised his hand, which Fili mirrored. Dwalin strode forward, crossing his arms and putting his knuckledusters on full view. “You have all been dismissed. None of you may enter this room again, without the Kings or his Heirs explicit permission. You may leave with your dignity intact or you will be forcibly escorted from this room by my guards. You have ten seconds to decide.”

Every dwarf in the room furiously glared at Dwalin, their faces turning a deep shade of red as their anger grew. “Five seconds,” Dwalin growled. His guards all took a step forward, ready to remove them all.

“Decide _now_.” The tension was so thick that Thorin felt he could have cut it with a dull knife, but after another tense moment, one dwarf left the room, the rest quickly following. None of them looked back to the royal family but they could all feel the anger being focused on them.

When the door shut behind the last one, Dwalin rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms, hooking his thumbs in in belt. “They never want to do it the fun way. Bastards.”

His men chuckled as they moved back to stand against the wall, Fili and Kili chuckling as well. “They'd never allow themselves that disgrace, no matter how entertaining it would be for us,” Kili commented, standing up and cracking his back. “Seriously, hundred of years of experience and we can't find a way to make stone chairs more comfortable? At least put a cushion on the damn things.”

“I don't know what you're complaining about. Have you ever sat on the throne? Stepping on gravel barefoot is more comfortable than that thing.”

“Sucks to be the first born huh?” Kili said in a mocking voice. “Poor Heir to the Throne Fili. Is your throne that uncomfortable? You get to sit while your poor brother will have to stand next to you and listen to all the dignitaries just drone on and on. And I have to pay attention to what they say in case you fall asleep.”

Fili rolled his eyes as he shoved Kili back into his chair and promptly sat on him. Thorin groaned, looking up and praying Mahal for the strength to not smack his nephews upside the head.

“They're not going to stay calm about this,” Bilbo commented. “Not for long. They're probably running to Dain right now.”

Thorin nodded in agreement. “They can try, but Dain won't give them his support. By joining Erebor's council, they forfeited their right to their positions on Dain's own council. He's not happy that a dozen of his own subjects just went and abandoned their posts without so much as a 'by your leave'. Dain supports us, not them. He's family and in all honesty, I think he's getting a good laugh watching them humiliate themselves.”

“This is going to have consequences,” Dwalin added. “They're going to want their positions back and they're going to do their best to undermine the members of the company on the council. They'll be ruthless. Bifur, Bofur, Dori, Nori – they're going to try to destroy their reputations before they can establish themselves. They can't touch Balin or Gloin since they're already nobles by blood.”

Ori shuffled through the papers in his hands, frowning when he couldn't find what he was looking for. “I know I have it somewhere in my notes that if they start to cause trouble they can eventually be exiled from Erebor. Temporarily to begin with of course, but if they continue to slander the company with vile rumors it can be permanent. They would still be allowed to reside in any other dwarf kingdoms, they would just be barred from Erebor permanently.”

Bilbo picked up Thorin's papers, starting to shuffle through is as well. “It might be a sign of good faith to give them a chance to redeem themselves. Obviously not given positions on the council again, but maybe other positions of status if they can prove their loyalty to you?”

Kili shook his head as he tried to shove Fili off of him. “Dwarves are stubborn to a fault Bilbo. They won't be changing their tunes anytime soon.” He grunted as he shoved at Fili again. “Get off me you lump!”

Fili responded by ruffling Kili's hair and putting him in a headlock.

“Mahal save me,” Thorin muttered. “Now, we need to get to work. Kili, make sure that Bofur has everything he needs to clear the main levels of all rubble and ensure that they can be stabilized. Anything he needs, he and his men will have. Fili, go to the forges and give the order for Erebor's gates to be their top priority. The worst of winter is still to come and I won't leave this fortress open to the elements. We'll have a hard enough time with rations this winter, we don't need to invite in disease and cold if we can avoid it. Ori, continue on your work with the library. Find everything you can on the councils rules as well as finding another way to legitimize my ennobling of the company besides the contract. Their has to be an example somewhere in the library.”

The lads nodded, smiling as they stood up and bowed to Thorin. He smiled to himself as they left, thinking of how much all three of them had grown in the months since they had left Ered Luin. They were all growing into fine young dwarrows.

“Bilbo, is their anything that can be done to get the land surrounding Erebor ready for planting in the spring? Do we know if it's fallow or if it's still fertile?”

Bilbo fidgeted with the papers in his hands. “I don't know yet. I have yet to see if the land is fertile or if Smaug completely destroyed it with his fire. I'll write home to my gardener, see if he has any advice of his own that might help us.”

“Is something wrong laddie?”

Bilbo grimaced, but shook his head. “It's just that well....I have to leave soon.”

Thorin felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Bilbo couldn't leave. He _belonged_ in Erebor, not The Shire. He wasn't exactly a normal hobbit and going off on this adventure had only proven that. He couldn't just go back to The Shire and go back to his books.....could he? That's what he'd said he'd wanted for months, but Erebor's library still had to much to offer Bilbo. Thousands of books all at Bilbo's disposal. Erebor was once the center of trade in the north and would soon be again once the caravans arrived. Plenty of culture and knowledge would soon be flowing into Erebor again, that to would have to interest Bilbo......right?

Bilbo must have seen the look on his face, as he gently squeezed Thorin's shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “Not permanently, but I have to set my affairs in order. Bag-End will go to some Brandybuck cousins of mine and I need to make sure that I bring my belongings back here to Erebor with me. If I don't, those damn Sackville-Baggin's will try to take everything from me. I would only be gone for six months, a year at the most.”

Thorin was not sulking, he was merely frowning. “How long until you have to leave?”

“When Gandalf returns he'll escort me home. He said to expect him back by the end of January, but that will also depend on how the weather is. I can't cross half of Middle-Earth in a blizzard, nor would he want to travel in it either. He might be a wizard, but he's not a fool.”

Dwalin snorted. “I'd beg to differ on that one.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “Behave. He's helped us enough to at least have your respect. And I won't be leaving for quite some time, so theirs no reason for anyone to start worrying about it.”

Thorin ignored the pointed look Balin gave him, instead just grunting his acceptance. “I'll make sure that one of our Raven's accompanies you on your journey. They'll be able to deliver messages between you and us while you're gone.”

“Won't it take weeks for them to get here?”

Balin shook his head. “They're incredibly fast and intelligent. Only takes them about a week to fly to Ered Luin or The Shire. They're our best source of communication.”

“That explains how your sister's letter arrived so quickly then,” Bilbo observed. “Two weeks after I sent it out and I woke to a Raven waiting for me. Which reminds me that I have to send out a reply to her today. Things have just gotten away from me the past few days.”

“Which reminds me; _why_ are you writing to my sister?”

Bilbo looked at him like he was a complete idiot. “To let her know that her family was safe?”

“But why are you still writing her?”

“Because I like her. She's quite the dwarrowdam if I say so myself. Very intriguing opinions and thoughts on different matters. I can't wait to meet her.”

Thorin knew he was going to regret that day.

“Can you stop?”

“No.”

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

“The wizards returned.”

Thorin looked up from the documents he was reading and glared at Dwalin. His cousin had his arms crossed and looked about as thrilled as Thorin was.

“Don't give me that look. I can't control him any more than you can.”

“He wasn't _supposed_ to be back for another month,” he grumbled as he laid the documents aside and reached for his crutches. “Why's he back so soon?”

Dwalin shrugged and stuck his thumbs in his belt. “Beats me, but he asking to see you. Says it's important.”

Thorin groaned as he stood up and walked out of his office, Dwalin at his side. “Every time that blasted wizard says something is important, we end up paying the price for it. Does he think we have nothing better to do?”

“Dis was right, you do pout a lot when it comes to Bilbo leaving.”

“I _am not_ pouting. That wizard causes nothing but trouble and I don't want any more in this mountain. We've had enough to last several lifetimes.”

“Then you might as well throw Fili and Kili out of Erebor while you're at it.”

“You know what I mean.”

Dwalin harrumphed, rolling his eyes as he led the way down to the Gallery of the Kings where Gandalf was waiting for them. He had left Bilbo with the wizard earlier, who was eager to catch up with the old man. He didn't think he'd ever understand why the hobbit cared for the wizard so much.

Fili and Kili were waiting for them at the entrance of the Gallery of the Kings, weapons strapped to their sides as they frowned at Gandalf.

“You aren't supposed to be using those yet,” Dwalin grumbled, ready to lock their beloved weapons away in a mithril chest if he had to. “Oin said you could return to training at the end of the month and not a day sooner.”

Fili's fingers tightened on the hilt of his sword. “He's going to take Bilbo away.”

Dwalin watched as Thorin's fingers tightened around the grips on his crutches, his knuckles going white as he took a deep breath.

“He isn't taking Bilbo away from us. Bilbo has a will of his own and he will always do as he pleases. We may not like it, but he has to settle his affairs in The Shire first. He'll come back.” Thorin looked at Bilbo. “He has to.”

Not waiting for his nephews or cousin to respond, he walked into the Gallery of the Kings, deliberately refusing to look at the golden floor. He avoided the Gallery if he could, worried that the golds call would pull him back under again, force the sickness back on him. He was working on plans to remove the gold from the floor and have it returned to the forges, where it could be melted down into coins.

“Gandalf,” he said gruffly. “We weren't expecting you for another few weeks.”

The wizard smiled at him. Gandalf knew exactly when Thorin was baiting him and decided he hadn't had enough fun the past few weeks as he traveled the Wilds. “A wizard is neither late nor early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes behind Gandalf, earning a small smile from Thorin. “You know what I mean wizard.”

“Courtesy was never one of your better traits,” Gandalf replied with an exasperated sigh. “I returned early because the winter is mild. No storms delayed my arrival.” He turned to Bilbo. “Which means that as soon as you are ready, I can escort you back to The Shire. I've had reports from all across Middle-Earth and all of them have confirmed that they are experiencing a mild winter as well. This would be a good time to leave, lest we get stuck with the spring storms.”

Bilbo nodded as Thorin tried to maintain a neutral expression. “I can be ready to leave by tomorrow night.”

He swore his heart was going to beat right out of his chest but he refused to show any emotion to Gandalf.

Gandalf nodded. “Excellent. We'll get you a pony and we should reach The Shire just as the planting season begins. Now, I will retire to my rooms. I've earned a good meal and some rest before we depart for the Wilds.”

“Hold up,” he growled out. “Dwalin said you have something important to discuss with me. You didn't need me here just so you could tell Bilbo you were here to escort him home.”

“I will discuss it with you when you are in a better mood.”

With that the infuriating wizard strode away, dwarves scurrying out of his way and muttering under their breath at him as he passed them.

“Well, that's about as polite as he gets,” Bilbo muttered.

“Dwalin said he wanted to speak to me, not down to me,” he grumbled, moving closer to Bilbo.

Bilbo shrugged. “Don't take it personally. He's always grumpy when he arrives from his travels. A good meal and some rest usually cheers him right up.”

“Speaking from experience?”

“He used to frequent Bag-End when I was a child. He loved the Old Took and my mother was his favorite daughter so he visited us quite often before the Old Took passed on. He was always a terrible grump when he arrived and Mother would send him right to bed before he could ruin my fathers' mood.”

“Your mother sent a wizard to bed?”

“Quite often. She threatened not to feed him once in a while to. He'd shape up really fast if she did.”

“Was your mother part dwarf by any chance?”

Bilbo laughed at that and shook his head. “No, she was just a Took. They have a fire in their blood that no other hobbit does.” He gave Thorin a wry look. “Although there is a strong rumor that their's fairy blood somewhere on the Took side. From ages ago of course, but it would explain a lot.”

“That would explain why you have pointed ears.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. “ _All_ hobbits have pointed ears you insufferable dwarf.”

“Won't you at least stay until the day after tomorrow? You haven't experienced a true Dwarven going away party yet and you know none of us are letting you leave without one.”

Bilbo thought for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Since it's not my kitchen you'll be raiding this time why not?”

He couldn't stop the smile that came to his lips. “I'll let the lads know. Fili and Kili have their mothers talent at whipping up a celebration in no time flat. In the meantime, what do you need for your journey? Everything at this mountain is at your disposal.”

They started walking towards the entrance of the Gallery of the Kings, smiling as Fili and Kili emerged from behind one of the massive pillars. “Lads, how fast can you whip up a going away party for Mr. Baggins?”

They smiled mischievously and then were off like a shot.

“Should we be worried?” Bilbo asked as he watched them run in the general direction of the kitchens.

“Undoubtedly.”

They continued on their way, Thorin silently directing them back towards the Royal Halls. “Well besides the obvious pony, I have plenty of warm clothes. All I can see is needing is everyday supplies.” Suddenly Bilbo's eyes lit up. “Handkerchiefs! I need handkerchiefs. I haven't had one since Rivendell.”

Thorin chuckled. “I will have them found. Can't fail on the one thing you've asked for. Your share of the gold though? How would you like it transported to The Shire?”

Bilbo's eyes flashed to Thorin for the briefest of seconds. “I claimed the Arkenstone as my share and traded it away. I don't need anymore, nor do I want it. How would I get it across Middle-Earth, without murder and thievery anyway?”

There was no venom in Bilbo's words, but they still stung all the same. “You did that out of desperation to save us, Bilbo. That stone will be returned to where it belongs as soon as I can manage it. Therefore, your share still has not been claimed. You left your home behind for us, followed us through disaster after disaster. You could have turned around at any time, but you stood by us. I cannot let that go unrewarded.”

Bilbo shook his head. “I don't need it Thorin. My father was a businessman, a very clever one. Between him and my mother, they amassed a fortune during their lifetimes and they taught me everything they knew. I've doubled it since I inherited it.”

“You are an infuriatingly stubborn hobbit.” He maneuvered his way past the largest of the boulders in the upper halls, Bilbo following behind him.

“Are you're an infuriatingly stubborn dwarf. We established this around Rivendell I believe.” Glaring at the rock he stepped on, Bilbo gave it a swift kick down the hall. “Thorin, where exactly are we going?”

“You'll see.”

They continued on until they came to the biggest boulder either of them had ever seen. It blocked most of the doorway it was in front of, but there was enough space for them to get through..... _if_ they sucked in their guts and didn't mind a bit of a squeeze. He went up to the small space, taking both of his crutches in one hand as he forced his way through.

“Thorin! You shouldn't be doing that!”

He was already through, rearranging his crutches. “Come now Mr. Baggins. I think I know what I can and can't do with these things by now.”

Grumbling, Bilbo squeezed through the entrance. “Exactly how I lost my acorn buttons.”

“What?”

“Never you mind. Now, what is this...”

Bilbo stopped in his tracks, his eyes going wide as he looked around the long-abandoned garden. Smaug had razed the mountainside during his attack on Erebor, effectively destroying any plant life that had been exposed to the flames. Several of the once luscious trees were nothing more than charred remains, their limbs blackened and falling to the ground. The grass had fared no better. The biggest loss had been the oak tree that had been in the center of the garden.

“This was my grandmothers and mothers garden,” Thorin softly explained. “They would spend hours out here in the summer months, bringing Frerin, Dis and I with them. We'd run around and play while they worked.” He carefully navigated the debris, coming to stand under the remains of the oak tree. “Rumor has it that my grandmother charmed Thranduil in his better days and he gifted her with an acorn. He knew that she had a love of all things that grow and that none of the trees she had planted were thriving here. So he gave her an acorn from the Greenwood. She planted it and within fifty years it had grown from a seedling to a behemoth. My father would be a terror and climb it as high as he could just to scare her. When we started to grow, my father had the brilliant idea of terrifying my mother too. So he attached ropes to the thickest branches and we'd swing from them for hours and hours as she and my grandmother plotted on how best to get back at their husbands.”

He closed his eyes as the memories came flooding back to him, memories of fresh air, laughter, and love.

“What happened to them?” Bilbo asked him softly.

He took a deep breath. “They were missing after Smaug took Erebor. We searched the survivors for days but no one could tell us anything. Eventually, a child came to my father. Told him how he had last seen them herding people into the lower halls and running after them when Smaug approached.”

He took a deep breath, his voice leaving him for a moment as guilt overwhelmed him. “They were trapped, like those we saw when we first arrived. We had no reinforcements and Thranduil had abandoned us. I begged my father and grandfather for permission to go back in to find them, but they refused. We left them trapped in Erebor. Left them to die.”

He could feel the tears coming and didn't stop them. Seventeen decades later and the guilt was still as fresh as it was the day it had happened.

“Oh, Thorin...” Suddenly he was pulled into a surprisingly bone-crushing hug. He let his crutches fall to the ground as he wrapped his arms around Bilbo's shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his hobbit's neck. His silent sobs shook his entire body, making him wobble a bit on his good leg. Bilbo carefully guided them both to the ground without ever loosening his hold on Thorin. Bilbo didn't say anything. Didn't try to say it was alright, didn't say that it would be better. He didn't lie to Thorin. He never did.

It was a long while later that they finally broke apart, Bilbo fishing a scrap out of his pocket and handing it to Thorin. “It's not a handkerchief but it's as close as I can manage.”

Thorin gave him a watery smile as he took the “handkerchief” and wiped his face clean. “Thank you.”

Bilbo smiled as well, his eyes flicking down to where Thorin's boot had dug into the ground for a moment.

“I'm sorry. I didn't expect that to happen,” he murmured softly. “I brought you here because I'm not above bribery.” He swept his arm out to include the whole garden. “This is yours. Whether you return to the mountain in a year or in fifty years, this is yours.”

Bilbo blinked at him, his eyes wide. “But...but........but surely this belongs to your sister now? From her grandmother to her mother to her, right? I can't just take it from her.”

He shook his head. “No, it's always belonged to the Royal Family, the women in our family are just the ones who took the interest in it. You're apart of our family now Bilbo and I want you to have this. It's dead, but if anyone can bring it back to life, it's you.”

Bilbo's eyes flicked down to the ground again. “It's not dead Thorin, it's just dormant.”

Thorin looked around at the charred remnants of the garden. “No, it's dead.”

“That's because you're looking at the wrong places. Look here.” He pointed to the ground Thorin's boot had exposed. It was faint, but there was a hint of green at the base of the grass. “It's trying, it just needs a little help.”

He dug his foot into the ground more, pushing aside more earth and exposing more of the faint green. “Will you help it?”

Bilbo nodded. “I will when I return. I don't know when it will be, but I know that I'm coming back. As soon as I can.”

“You'll need plenty of money to help it won't you?”

“I have plenty of money in The Shire. I'll bring it with me. I'm sure the traders will be happy with gold and silver either way.”

“You can always use your share of the treasure as well.”

“You slick bastard.”

Thorin shrugged, smiling shamelessly. “You'll put it to better use than anyone else would.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes, but the look on his face told Thorin that he was genuinely pleased. “Fine. I will use my share to bring this back to life.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin, his eyes giving away his concern for the dwarf. “Explore if you wish. I'm fine.”

“That's a lie right their. You are clearly still feeling guilty about what happened to your mother and grandmother.”

“Wouldn't you?” Thorin replied sullenly. “My mother. My grandmother. And we left them to die. Left to starve to death in the tunnels as they waited for us to come rescue them.”

“It's natural to feel guilty for that Thorin but you can't think that it was your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. Not yours, not your fathers, not your grandfathers. What would have happened if you'd gone back in and tried to find them? Their's a small chance you could have found them, but would you have been able to get out? You could have been trapped as well. And I don't think your family could have survived such a loss. Everything you've done since that day never would have happened. Your people would have been leaderless after the Battle of Moria. It's a hard choice, but it was a choice that your father and grandfather had to make. They had to live with it and so do you.”

Thorin shook his head as the tears came flooding back. He had only been so young when he'd lost his mother and it had taken him years to fully process that loss. That loss had changed his father, with his smiles rare and often not appearing for years. He had loved all of his children dearly, they'd all known they were the mithril of his heart, but losing his One had altered him in a way that could never be undone. He'd lost a part of his soul that day.

“We haven't found them yet,” he said in a whisper. “Dwalin and Bofur have been searching the tunnels, but they haven't found them.”

“How long have they been searching?”

“Since it became clear that I would live,” he answered. “Dwalin's my cousin and our mothers were the best of friends.”

“She went missing during the attack.”

It wasn't a question, but Thorin nodded all the same. “No one knows what happened to her, but to his dying day, Fundin believed that she was with my mother. Dwalin and Balin believe the same.” He took a shuddering breath. “Dwarves aren't meant to be left unburied. We came from the stone and we always return to it. They can't be at peace until they're buried in stone.”

Bilbo was quiet as he sat beside Thorin and he feared that he dropped too much information on Bilbo. He hadn't meant to, but he trusted Bilbo completely and it had just felt......right.

“They'll find them Thorin and they'll be put to rest properly.” Bilbo's words were quiet but confident. “You'll do them right.”

Thorin sniffled, wiping at his face again.

“I'll have to get your help to bring this back to life. I have a lot to live up to from what I've heard. I want to do your mother and grandmother justice.”

That got a small laugh from Thorin. “I trust that you will. I saw your garden at Bag-End. They would be jealous of your talents.”

He reached for his crutches, brushing off some dirt from them. Bilbo stood up, offering his hand to Thorin. He happily took it, allowing Bilbo to help pull him up and then he righted himself on his crutches.

“Let's go,” Thorin said. “I need to check on Fili and Kili, make sure they have no plans to bring the mountain down around us tonight. And you need to get ready for your return journey.”

Bilbo nodded and they squeezed their way back through the door and through the maze of boulders and debris on the floor. They walked in companionable silence through the halls, coming to a stop in front of Bilbo's room. “I'll send one of the lads to come find you when the party is ready,” he said, trying to hide the sadness in his voice.

Bilbo nodded, then disappeared into his room.

Taking a deep breath, Thorin continued walking, his feet taking him to Balin and Dwalin's apartments. He knocked before he entered, not at all surprised to find Balin sitting at his desk and glaring at documents.

“What can I do for you laddie?”

“I need a favor.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that this took so long to post. I'm in my final semester of classes and I've been searching high and low for internships this summer. Between school work and actual work I've had very little time to write. Adding to that I was dealing with a massive writers block as well.


	13. Chapter 13

“ _He's dead_.”

Those words were still ringing in Thorin's ears hours after he had spoken to Gandalf.

“ _He's dead.”_

He bit down hard on the stem of his pipe as the words reverberated through his head. His father had been alive but he had been to late to save him. Just as he always was.

He didn't _understand_. How had his father become a prisoner in that wretched place? How did he survive the battle? How?

He had begged Gandalf for answers, but the wizard had only shaken his head, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I don't know Thorin.”

He had pulled the truth from Gandalf, refusing to let the wizard lessen the blow. He had to know what had happened to his beloved father. He'd waited one hundred and forty-two years and he finally had the answers within his reach. He couldn't wait for them anymore.

He'd fixed the old man with his sharpest glare. “Tell me everything.”

He'd sighed, but done as Thorin demanded.

Listening to Gandalf's tale was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do in his life. He'd been so close, but so far at the same time. All of the endless possibilities began to run through his head, torturing him.

“You couldn't have saved him Thorin.”

He'd shaken his head, refusing to believe that.

“Once I'm finished escorting to The Shire, I'm going in search of answers. He was a dear friend to me and I will not rest until I know more. I will return when I have them.”

Thorin had nodded blindly, already terrified of the answers that Gandalf might find.

The old wizard quietly rose, excusing himself. Thorin was retreating inside himself and he knew that nothing could stop it.

“I am sorry. Truly.” Thorin nodded again, fighting the raging turmoil inside him as Gandalf walked towards the door of his office. He'd just opened the door when the wizard stopped and slowly turned around. “Thorin, the ring your father wore? What happened to it?”

Struggling to keep his voice steady, he croaked out, “It disappeared with him. Why?”

Gandalf didn't say anything, his eyes distant.

“Gandalf?”

The wizard's eyes cleared and he looked at Thorin. “I don't know, but something tells me that ring has a role in this madness.”

  
With that, the wizard left and Thorin crumbled. With the rest of The Company busy with preparations for Bilbo's party that night, it meant that no one would disturb him for hours. He somehow managed to get up and lock the door behind Gandalf, tears streaming down his face as he struggled to hold himself together. He couldn't let anyone else see him like this. He couldn't let anyone else know what had happened to his father. Not yet. They didn't have the answers. And what would he tell the lads? He'd told them for years that their grandfather was alive. He couldn't tell them now that Thrain was dead.

He couldn't do that. Not to them.

He didn't know how, but he somehow managed to pull himself together in time to make it to Bilbo's party. He'd put on a smile, forced himself to make conversation as tankards were passed around. Thorin didn't know how Fili and Kili had pulled it off, but they'd gotten ahold of the best ale dwarves could brew. It didn't take long for The Company to become inebriated, slurring their words and crushing Bilbo between them in bear hugs. The hobbit had only laughed and hugged them back, a smile on his face.

He'd excused himself as soon as he deemed everyone drunk enough to not notice his absence, slowly making his way to his room and shutting the door behind him. He'd collapsed into his armchair, his crutches clattering to the ground.

“ _He's dead.”_

He clenched the stem of his pipe between his teeth again, closing his eyes against the fresh tears forming in his eyes. He stared in the flames of the dying fire in his hearth, lost in his thoughts and that was how Bilbo found him late that night.

He kneeled in front of Thorin slowly, gently putting his hands on Thorin's knees as he looked up at the dwarf. “What's wrong?” he asked softly.

Thorin shook his head, not willing to lay this burden on anyone else.

“What did Gandalf tell you?”

Again Thorin shook his head. This wasn't Bilbo's burden to carry.

“Thorin, please. Talk to me.”

“This isn't your burden to carry.”

Bilbo shook his head. “Thorin whatever is troubling you, please tell me.”

He once more shook his head. This wasn't for Bilbo to know. This was his to know, his burden until Gandalf came back with answers.

Bilbo closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. When he looked up, his eyes were sad and his words soft. “Nearly a year we've all been together, but you still haven't learned to trust us have you? You don't let us help you unless we force it on you. You might be a King, but kings to are made of clay.”

With that Bilbo stood up and left, shutting the door behind him softly. He looked down at his hands, unclenching them and staring at the blood he had drawn from clenching them so hard. Bilbo was right. He knew that. But for so long he'd been on his own. He didn't know how to share the burden of anything with another living soul. Ever since Smaug had come, he'd been seen as the leader of his people. His grandfather and father might have lived, but he'd heard his subjects talking. He'd led the charge against Smaug and for that, he'd earned their everlasting loyalty.

He'd had Frerin and Dís to look after. He had to make sure they were safe, that they were happy, that they were being fed, even if meant he went hungry.

They'd been happy for a time when they'd come to the Blue Mountains, but then they'd made the disastrous mistake of thinking they could retake Moria. Thousands had died that day, a terrible blow to their people. And him? Leader of a scattered people, his grandfather and baby brother dead. His father missing.

He didn't _know_ how to let anyone help him. Kings weren't supposed to be helped. They were supposed to be as steady and as strong as the stone from which they came. They were to show no weakness.

He clenched his hands as flashes of battles long past appeared before his eyes, the screams echoing in his ears. He remembered them. All of them. You didn't forget the final sounds your shield-brothers made before they blessedly passed from this world and into the next. The look on their faces as they breathed their last. They were fleeting images on his best nights, haunting spirits on his worst nights.

“Go away,” he whispered brokenly. “Not tonight.”

They ghosted in front of him before they faded away as he bid.

“Why so troubled brother?”

Thorin opened his eyes to find Frerin standing before him.

“Go away.”

“If you truly wanted me gone, I wouldn't be here before you.”

Thorin shook his head as Frerin moved to stand in front of the fire. “You're just as stubborn in death as you are in life.”

Frerin smiled the smile that Thorin _missed_ so much. It was carefree, weightless. It was why he'd loved his baby brother so much. They had been opposites in every way possible, but they'd been the best of friends. “It's a family trait I suppose.” He chuckled as he pulled his pipe out of his breast pocket and lit it. “Well, I'm here, so let's talk.”

“Talk about what?”

He shrugged as he puffed on his pipe. “I don't know. Erebor, Dis, those crazy nephews of mine? Catch me up on all that I've missed since I left.”

And that _hurt_. “I tried to protect you, I swear it.”

Frerin chuckled and shook his head. “I never blamed you. I was foolish, insisting that I not be left behind. I didn't belong at Moria, something I realized far too late as that Orc came at me. But it was my time. Mahal works in mysterious ways brother. One way or another, I was not meant to live a long life. Now, please tell me about our sister and those lads.”

He let out a deep sigh as he shook his head. “She's ready to murder me and the lads are busy trying to run Erebor in my absence but still get in their usual amount of mischief.”

Frerin let out a smoke ring as he smiled. “Good to know some things never change around here.” He sat down in the chair across from Thorin, letting out another smoke ring as he gestured to Thorin's missing leg. “And you brother? This is no easy task to overcome.”

Thorin looked down to his stump and was silent for a long time.

“Come now brother, who am I going to tell?”

  
Thorin shot him a dirty look, but Frerin just shrugged. “Don't start giving me crap about jokes in poor taste. I had enough of that last time.”

“Fine. I'm exhausted. Happy? I still don't know how to deal with this half the time. I can't train with Fili and Kili. I can't access half the mountain to see what needs to be repaired. I can't even see our home being restored. This is a terrible burden to deal with.”

Frerin watched his brother for a few moments, shaking his head as a smile formed on his lips. “So why not share it?”

“Share a missing leg? How does one go about sharing that? Do I lop off a friends and ask if I can borrow it?”

He rolled his eyes and blew another smoke ring. “I wish I had Kili's bow right now. I'd shoot you right in the ass.”

Thorin huffed and crossed his arms. “And what have I done to deserve that this time?”

“For being an idiot. As usual.” Frerin put his pipe down and fixed his brother with a hard look. “Father and grandfather were dear to me, but they were fools and that was their downfall. They never let anyone help them. Never showed any weakness. They couldn't even act like a normal dwarf with their families by the end of their days they were so convinced that if they showed any sign of weakness, they would be undone. And they passed that on to you.”

“Brother I beg you to not make the same mistake that our forefathers made. Talk to The Company, talk to our sister, talk to our nephews. Talk to Bilbo. I know how much he means to you. Learn to share the burden.”

“These are my burdens to bear, no one else's.”

Frerin let out a long-suffering sigh as he put his pipe down. “They are your burdens, but do you not feel the weight of the world on your shoulders? The weight of all of Erebor? The burden would be more easily carried if you shared your thoughts and your worries.”

“I have no right to ask any of them for that.”

“I've seen your actions and you're right. You don't. But you redeemed yourself when you overcame the Dragon Sickness. They will help you.”

Thorin was silent, choosing instead to stare into the flames of the fire in front of him.

“This is about father, isn't it?”

Thorin said nothing, but his silence was his own answer.

“None of that was your fault brother. And perhaps it was a blessing in disguise. In the end at least.”

“How can you say that?” He roared. “He was _tortured_ for years in that dark place! Driven mad! You think that a blessing?!”

  
_“He went mad the day we lost Erebor!_ ” Frerin roared back. “When he lost mother he died that day. He was never the same after that. He was a shell of the dwarf he once was. Death in any form was a mercy him at that point!”

“He loved us. He wasn't mad!”

“I _never_ said he didn't love us, but he was never the same after he lost amad. You know that better than anyone.”

“He....”

“Don't try to say anything else,” Frerin yelled. “I know what father was just as you do. He loved us, but he was half mad after he lost mother. Don't try to deny it.”

Thorin glared at Frerin, who held his gaze until Thorin had to look away.

“Father is dead. His soul died the day Smaug came and his body died in that dark tower. Nothing will change that. You know this.”

“No, I don't.”

Frerin was suddenly standing in front of him. “Yes, you do. And you want to know how I know that?”

He shook his head, but Frerin only stepped closer.

“It's because I'm _you_. I'm a figment of your imagination, the side that actually sees's reason once in a while. I speak what you already know but want to deny. You already know the answers to all of your questions, to all of your worries, you just want someone to say that you are wrong.”

Thorin shook his head. “If you were a figment of my imagination, then you would leave when I command it.”

Frerin held his arms wide. “Then bid me gone brother. But remember this, kings to are made of clay.”

“GO!”

And he was alone once more. The tears came unbidden and unchecked as he slid from his chair, curling up against it as every wall he had thrown up against his building emotions broke.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any one spotted The Tudors reference gets a free cookie.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I feel terrible realizing that for the last few chapters all I've done is make poor Thorin miserable. Can't say it's much better for this chapter, he's had a few rough days and that's not about to go away but things will get better soon. Just not right now.

Morning came eventually, Thorin glaring at the thin streak of light that was making its way into his room. He hadn't slept a wink, despite the stress and turmoil he had been under for the last day and a half. Every time he closed his eyes he could hear Gandalf and Frerin's words in his ears, speaking over each other to the point where it blocked out everything else.

The only relief that would come to him this morning was that the rest of The Company would be suffering from terrible hangovers, meaning they would not seek him out until at least this afternoon. He was probably expected at some meeting or another, but he couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. He needed sleep, just a few hours, but he needed _something_. He clambered to his feet, pulling his crutches up with him, and staggered over to his bed. His exhaustion quickly overtaking him, he pulled off his boot and managed to get himself somewhat under the mess of blankets on his bed.

A soft knock at the door had him groaning in misery as he wondered what could be needed from him at this early hour. Without waiting for his permission, the door opened to reveal Bilbo. He was dressed and wide awake, showing no signs of a hangover.

“Bilbo?” His brain knew that he needed to apologize for his behavior last night, but he was just so _tired_. His vision was starting to become hazy and unfocused as his exhaustion took him to his limits.

“I just wanted to check on you before I headed down to the kitchens,” Bilbo explained softly as he approached, his eyes filling with worry as they took in Thorin's wretched state. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

He shook his head as he slumped down.

“Why not?”

Thorin shook his head again. Bilbo would think him crazy if he told him about Frerin. Surely no hobbit in history had ever suffered as the dwarves had, with nightly terrors and ghosts of the past haunting them, blame in their eyes as they stared you down.

Bilbo sighed, his shoulders slumping with defeat. Shaking his head, he made to go, but with a jolt, Thorin realized that if he let Bilbo leave now, it would do irreparable damage to their friendship.

“Wait!”

  
Bilbo turned back around, giving Thorin a curious look. He motioned him closer, trying to push himself up from his bed, pushing his exhaustion back as much as he could as he tried to explain himself.

“I'm _sorry_ , Bilbo. I am. I can't talk about it. It's hard and it's complicated and you'll think me crazy if I tell you the truth. But please know that it is not a question of trusting you. I do, but I...I.....” He looked away, fighting to make the words make sense. “I don't know how to explain it, and I don't think I can. But please believe me.”

Bilbo looked at him for several moments, clearly confused at the babble that had just come from his mouth, but he did smile and nod. “Fair enough.” He came over to the side of his bed, his smile turning to a frown as he finally got a close look at the dwarf's face. “Thorin, when was the last time you slept?”

With a defeated look, he answered that it had been the night before last. Shaking his head, Bilbo pushed him down and started righting the blankets. “You're not to leave this room today. Whatever Gandalf told you, you clearly still need to process and rest. Once Balin is up, we'll take care of your meetings for today.”

Rubbing his forehead, he begrudgingly admitted, “I can't sleep. I've been trying, but every time I do I have terrible dreams.”

Bilbo continued to right the blankets as he snorted. “Well, that's easily fixed. I'll go down to the kitchens and make a pot of chamomile tea. It'll stop the dreams.”

With that, he left the room and Thorin began to doze off. Everything was starting to catch up to him, overwhelming him to the point where his body was responding by simply shutting down. He just.... couldn't anymore. He groaned as his leg twinged, rubbing it to try and soothe the cramped muscles. _Stop_ , he silently pleaded. _Just for today, please stop._

The next thing he knew, he was being gently shaken away. He slowly opened his eyes to find Bilbo giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he said softly, “but you should drink this.” He held out a steaming mug to Thorin, who took it with a slight shaking of his hands. He blew on it and took a tentative sip.

“All of it,” Bilbo urged.

Nodding his head, he did as asked. Bilbo puttered about his room for the few minutes it took Thorin to drink the tea, cleaning up the clothes he had scattered about on the floor and organizing his mess of a desk. When he finished, he set the mug down and found his eyes quickly falling shut as the tea began to work its magic on him.

His eyes shot open, however, when the room began to darken. “No!” He yelled as he pushed himself up and Bilbo froze. “Don't......to dark.” Pulling on the rope until the light shone through again, Bilbo fastened it on the hook and returned to Thorin's side.

“Do you need anything else before I go?”

He shook his head, knowing that the one thing he would ask of Bilbo would be impossible. Slumping back down into bed once more, Bilbo fixed his blankets and furs before leaving him. Letting his eyes slip shut once more, he allowed sleep to claim him.

It was dreamless.

The remainder of the day was nothing more than a muddled memory for him. He knew that Bilbo and eventually Balin had checked on him, bringing him more tea and food at one point. He thought he heard Fili and Kili at one point, but when he opened his eyes they were gone.

He slept for the entire day, only really waking up around midnight and finding himself no longer able to sleep. With a jolt, he realized that he had slept through all of Bilbo's final day in Erebor. How could he have wasted such precious time with such a foolish thing?

 

_* * * * * * *_

_Bilbo's leaving._

That thought had kept him up the remainder of the night, what little sleep he had gotten had been plagued by nightmares of harm coming to Bilbo as he traveled back to The Shire. He had given up on sleep somewhere around the fourth bell, dressing warmly and making his way slowly out onto the battlements. His guard had protested, but Thorin had simply waved him off. Irritated, he had gone and found Dwalin, telling his old friend that Thorin was acting like a damn fool and to talk some sense into him.

Dwalin had begrudgingly left his warm bed, come to the ramparts, and punched Thorin squarely in the shoulders. But he hadn't left. He knew that Thorin was having a hard time dealing with the thought of Bilbo leaving and not wanting to leave his friend alone, had simply stood next to him for the remainder of the night. It was only as the sun was beginning to rise that Dwalin said something.

“You going to give it to him or not?”

Thorin sighed, looking down at the bead he had been fingering. “It's just a bead of friendship, nothing more.”

“If it was nothing more you would have given it to him when you finished it two weeks ago.”

When Thorin remained silent, Dwalin looked back over the battlements. “He forgave you. He forgave all of us for what happened,” he said quietly. “He'll accept it.”

“He has no reason to.” His fingers tightened into a fist, hiding the bead from sight. “We don't deserve his friendship, not after what we did.”

“Aye, you're right.”

Thorin looked up, unsurprised that Dwalin had agreed with him. Dwalin didn't look at him, his eyes still focused on the field in front of them. The bodies had been cleared away months ago, but it still a barren place, devoid of all life.

“We don't deserve his friendship. We never will. But he found a way to forgive us and I for one am selfish enough to accept it. Don't be noble in this Thorin. Be selfish like the rest of us. Accept it and don't ever question it.”

“You fear he will change his mind?”

“Every damned day. We need him more than he needs us. He was a true friend to us and we betrayed him. I won't ever question it out of fear that he'll realize he shouldn't have forgiven us and never return.”

Thorin looked out over the battlements, watching as the sun slowly rose, lighting up the field before them and Dale beyond. The city was prospering under Bard's rule and would soon rival the Dale of old. His fist tightened even more as he focused back on the field, the memories floating in front of him. The screams, the smell of blood, the bodies. All that death. Because of _him_.

“Thorin.”

He blinked and looked away at the soft call of his name. He found Dwalin's eyes on him, the understanding etched in them. They both suffered from the many battles they had fought. Dwarves called it a “Warriors Conscience”. Nightmares, the survivors' guilt, the constant fight to not let the memories overcome them. It seemed to only worsen as they grew older.

“You back?”

Thorin nodded and loosened his grip on his crutches. “We should make our way down. Gandalf said he wanted to leave an hour after sunrise.”

Dwalin didn't say anything, just nodded and started making his way down the stairs. Thorin followed behind him, handing his crutches to Dwalin as he hopped down the stairs on his good foot, his hands having an iron grip on the railings.

Once they were back on the main floor, they found the rest of the Company waiting for them. All of them were dressed warmly, the Great Gates of Erebor thrown wide open to the empty field in front of them. Thorin smiled at Balin, who had a Raven perched on his shoulder and a small wrapped package in his hands.

With a low whistle, the Raven hopped from Balin's shoulder to Thorin's. He smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of food. With a pleased sound, the Raven took the food from Thorin's fingers and gobbled it down.

“What's your name?” Thorin asked.

“Tar, son of Carc, at your service.”

Balin smiled as he brushed his fingers down the bird's spine. “He truly is his father and grandfathers son. His father sang great praises of him when I went to ask for this favor. Fastest Raven this side of the Misty Mountains and if you ask Tar, he's the cleverest as well.”

Tar visibly perked up as Balin spoke, looking immensely pleased with himself.

“Of course I'm the cleverest.”

“Mind your manners boy.” Both Thorin and Balin looked up as Carc settled himself on Balin's shoulders. They nodded in respect to the Raven patriarch, who nodded in return. “You are young and have yet to leave your nest. This will be a good learning experience for the hatchling.”

If it was possible for a bird to roll his eyes, Thorin was sure that Tar would have done so. “Yes, father.”

“Thank you for this favor Carc. It will not be forgotten.”

Carc nodded his head respectfully at Thorin, then gently pecked Balin's coat. The old dwarf pulled several treats out of his pocket and fed them to the old Raven. “Any shiny's?” Carc asked when he was done with his treats.

Thorin answered for him. “The doors to the treasury are forever open to you. My friend Bifur is working on restoring the old aviary for you and your flock as well.”

“I have faint memories of that place, but my father always spoke highly of them. I look forward to the day where we will once again fly in those sacred halls.”

Fili and Kili came forward, Fili offering his shoulder to Carc. He happily hopped over to his heirs' shoulders, while Kili fed him a treat. “Your hatchlings are overly kind,” Carc observed.

Thorin smiled as he stepped closer to him. “A trait their mother passed on to them. Do you remember the Princess Dís? They are her hatchlings.”

Fili and Kili gave him a dry look at being called “hatchlings” but said nothing of it.

“They are vague but I remember her. She used to scream like a banshee did she not? In that garden of your mothers?”

Thorin chuckled and nodded. “Aye, she was a right terror back then.”

“Do you have any stories of our Uncles and Mother?” Fili asked Carc. “Ones that you could tell us? They never tell us anything about when they lived here before the Dragon came.”

The old Raven nodded. “I have stories that I'm sure they don't even remember, but a birds memory never fails. I'll come by later today and tell you.”

“If I promise you a rabbit that I caught last night can we change that too after Bilbo leaves?” Kili asked. “We're going to need some cheering up.”

“Deal. Can you roast it by any chance? Such a delicacy that we rarely get these days.”

“Done.”

Thorin rolled his eyes as he fed Tar another treat. The Ravens were valuable allies to Erebor, his own crown having a Raven emblem in it. But Mahal some day's they were right terrors, causing no end of havoc if they got bored. Fili and Kili would no doubt get along great with them.

Fili held up another treat for Tar as he eyed the package in Balin's hand. “What's that? Another surprise for Bilbo?”

Thorin nodded and ignored his heir's raised eyebrows.

“You going to tell us what it is or do we have to force it out of you?”

“Mind your elders' lad,” Dwalin admonished him.

“As if you weren't wondering the same thing.”

“Not the point.”

Fili rolled his eyes in response. “Uncle?”

“It's nothing Fili. Just something he asked for.”

Fili let the subject drop, though Thorin suspected it wouldn't be for long.

“Good Morning.”

All of the dwarves turned as Gandalf approached, the wizard far to cheery for how early it was. They all greeted him with murmurs, none of them happy that he was taking Bilbo with him. He was smiling at them all warmly, Glamdring at his waist and his usual bag hanging from his shoulder. “Really, you could all look a little less miserable. He'll be coming back.”

Thorin resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the old man. This early in the morning he could either be polite or not kill someone. He couldn't do both. Tar looked at the wizard curiously, cocking his head as he eyed the crystal that was set into Gandalf's staff.

“Shiny?”

“Not for you,” the wizard replied merrily. “But if you behave maybe I'll bring you back something from my travels.”

“He'll be accompanying you.”

Gandalf cocked an eye at that, but only shrugged and turned his attention to the horse and pony that had just been brought out of the stables.

The hall went silent and with a heavy heart, he turned around to see Bilbo approaching them. He was dressed warmly, Dori having made a quick set of travel clothes for him. His coat was new, lined with warg fur, his shirt underneath a thick cotton. His cloak from Lake-Town had been lined with fur as well and shortened to fit him better. Freshly knitted fingerless gloves were on his hands courtesy of Ori. He had a large pack slung over one shoulder and Sting at his hip. He gave a strange look to the small dagger at Bilbo's other hip, before looking to Nori. His Spymaster simply shrugged and smiled.

“Morning all,” he said warmly, setting his pack down as he met with the Company.

They all looked down at the ground, none of them thinking it was a “good morning” at all.

“Oh come now, don't be like that,” he admonished them. “I'll be back before you realize it. Time flies when you're busy after all.”

They all muttered under their breath, not believing him at all, but smiling nonetheless. One by one, all the members of the Company came forward, wishing him safe travels and knocking him gently on the head in goodbye. Each of the Company slipped him something as they said their farewells.

Bifur and Bofur both handed him small carvings of Beorn and Smaug. Bombur gave him a small box, putting his finger to his lips as he backed away. Ori gifted him a set of quills and a blank journal. Dori handed him a small sewing kit, while Nori handed him two blade sharpeners. Oin handed him a small satchel, surely filled with emergency medical supplies and Gloin gave him a purse as he said, “No one in their right mind turns down dwarven gold.”

Dwalin handed him a think pair of leather gloves, which on closer inspection had small iron spikes sewn into the knuckles. “They'll fit under Ori's gloves and serve as a last resort should you lose Sting,” the old warrior explained as he tried to ignore Ori's affectionate smile.

Balin smiled as he bumped heads with Bilbo and handed him a small folded package. “From Thorin,” he whispered, before backing away with a conspiratorial smile. Bilbo had no time to open it though as Thorin came forward, Tar on his shoulders.

“I would ask one favor of you, while you are gone,” he said tentatively. Bilbo nodded as he eyed the Raven and looked back to Thorin. “This is Tar, Carc's son. I would ask that you allow him to accompany you on your journey back to The Shire and back here to Erebor. He's incredibly intelligent and would allow you to send messages to us while you are gone. He can also fly ahead to The Shire if you wish. He can speak Common and hunt for his own food, only needing the occasional treat to keep him happy.”

Tar nodded in agreement, gently nipping at Thorin's braid in a show of affection. Bilbo smiled and held out his arm to the Raven. “I would be happy to have such a valuable companion on such a journey.” Tar easily hopped from Thorin's shoulder to Bilbo's arm, the Raven lowering his head so that Bilbo could gently stroke him.

Some of the worry fell from his shoulders as he watched the two, knowing that he would have a way to contact Bilbo and know that he was safe for the next year. “Tar, could you give us a moment?” He nodded and flew over to Kili's shoulder, switching to the Raven language as he conversed with his father on Fili's shoulder.

He gave the Company a look, all of them backing off with smirks and giving their King a moment of privacy with their Burglar. Once they were mostly out of earshot, his gaze became soft as he looked at Bilbo. “Stay safe. Please. I know you must take care of your home first, but know that Erebor is now your home as well. You will always have a place here, for you freed her from Smaug's clutches. Carc knows this is a selfish deed that I am asking of his son, but he was still kind enough to allow me it. Do not hesitate to write to us, for we will be eagerly awaiting to hear from you.”

Bilbo smiled at him softly, his eyes watering slightly. “Of course, Thorin.” With that, he stepped forward and Thorin leaned down so that they could bump their foreheads together. They stayed like that for several long moments, Thorin closing his eyes as he worked up some courage.

“Thank you for yesterday.” Bilbo nodded and Thorin reached into his pocket, holding out the bead to Bilbo, his hand only shaking slightly. “I wanted to give you this as well.” Bilbo picked up the bead, bringing it close to examine it.

“Isn't this the symbol of Durin?”

Thorin nodded. “It means you have the protection of the Throne of Erebor, the King of All Dwarves. Any dwarf who sees this bead will know you as a friend and help you in any way they can.” Gesturing towards Bilbo's hair, he softly asked, “May I?”

His hobbit nodded and Thorin took a few strands of Bilbo's silky hair in his hands, quickly braiding the short strands into one of friendship and slipping the bead onto the very end before he tied it off.

Bilbo's fingers came to touch the braid, an affectionate smile on his lips. “Thank you.”

He nodded, words eluding him as he felt the wizard approach them.

“It's time we set off if we're to reach Mirkwood by nightfall.”

Bilbo nodded as he picked up his pack and Thorin reluctantly let him walk away, his heart growing heavier with every step Bilbo took away from him. He hooked his pack on the saddle before he mounted, the reins in his hand. Gandalf's horse trotted out of the gates, but Bilbo hesitated for a few moments as he looked at the Company.

“I'll be back before you know it,” he told them with watery eyes. They all bowed their heads in farewell, smiling at Bilbo fondly as he kicked his heels into the pony's side, urging him forward and through the gates. Tar and his father exchanged a few last words before Tar extended his wings and flew through the gates after Bilbo.

Thorin moved to stand at the gates, watching as Bilbo and the wizard slowly trotted off towards Dale. Fili and Kili came to stand beside to him and he could feel the remainder of the Company behind him.

Looking to Thorin, Fili quietly said, “He'll be okay Uncle.”

He nodded and gave his heir a soft smile. “I hope so.”

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Fili and Kili were standing in front of their Uncles desk, identical looks of annoyance on their faces.

Thorin didn't even look up from the document he was reading. “What do you want?”

“Oh, so you're in one of those moods today?” Fili asked sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest as he rolled his eyes.

“Go away.”

“See, if only it were that simple to actually get rid of us,” Kili commented as he sat down and put his feet up on his Uncles desk. Sure enough, that got Thorin to look up, glaring at Kili's muddy boots.

“Go bother Dwalin. I'm not in the mood to deal with either of your childish antics.”

Fili sat down in the chair next to his brother and shook his head. “Balin does our schedules and I know he didn't pencil in 'annoying Dwalin' until tomorrow afternoon, which means that for today we're free to spend time with you.”

Thorin turned his glare on his heir, a low growl emanating from his throat. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“For you to stop sulking,” Kili bit out, his voice losing all of its charm and innocence. “You've done nothing but hole up in your rooms since Bilbo left last week and we've had enough of it.”

Thorin shoved at Kili's boots, forcing them off his desk but leaving a trail of drying mud behind. “Mind your tone boy. I'm still your King.”

“You're our Uncle first, whether you like it or not,” Fili countered, his tone matching Thorins in a heartbeat. “A lesson _you_ taught us if you need reminding.”

“That was in the Blue Mountains. It is different here and you will learn that difference whether _you_ like it or not.”

“Warg-shit,” Fili spat out, his anger quickly rising. For a week, Thorin had refused to speak to him or Kili and had flat out ignored the rest of the Company since Bilbo had left. A day or so would have been considered normal, but a week? Utterly ridiculous. Fili had had _enough_. “Their's no difference between here and the Blue Mountains, save for the fact that we're on the opposite side of Middle-Earth.”

Fili could see the stunned look on Kili's face, but he ignored it for now. He rarely lost his temper, but when he did, it rivaled Thorins. A fact his Uncle knew well.

“All you've done for the past week is act like a _child_. So Bilbo left? So what? He had to go! We all knew it was coming, whether it was last week or a year from now, it was always going to happen. Instead of just accepting it like the rest of us did, you're acting like he left just to spite you.”

Thorin slowly stood up, absolutely seething as he stared down his nephew. Fili didn't budge, leaning on the desk as he matched his Uncle's glare. He'd been taught by the best and he'd make his mother proud. “You're dismissed Kili,” Thorin hissed out, his eyes not moving from Fili.

“No.”

“NOW!” Thorin roared, his face starting to turn red.

Kili stood up, crossing his arms as he moved to stand behind his brother. “I'm _not_ a child. You don't get to dismiss me like one anymore.”

“You both need a lesson in manners,” Thorin bit out. “One that doesn't come from your blasted mother.”

“I think she'll take that as a compliment,” Fili replied. Kili smirked, knowing just how proud their mother would be of them right now.

“Sarcasm is not appreciated right now. Now, both of you, _get out_ before I throw you out.”

“Once again Uncle, not happening. We're not leaving until you've told us what's really bothering you and you pull that stick out of your ass.”

“Nothing is bothering me,” he growled out, rising to his full height. “Now stop pestering me.”

“Gotten a letter from Bilbo yet?” Kili asked and from the way Thorin flinched, both brothers knew they had hit the mark.

“Seriously?!” Fili demanded. “That's the whole reason you've been insufferable this week? Because you haven't gotten a damned _letter_? He hasn't written to any of us!”

“He should have written by now!”

“Says who?! He's on the road right now and he's had to deal with Bard and Thranduil in the past week. He's probably still in Mirkwood right now! You know that the Raven's won't fly through those accursed woods anymore, not since Dol Guldur infected the forest. Tar won't deliver a letter to us until they reach the other side, maybe not even until the reach Beorn's. You're being completely unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable? That's rich coming from the two who barged into my office and won't listen to a damn word I'm saying.”

Kili gave his Uncle a stern look. “You lost that right when you decided to ignore us and your friends for a whole week. None of us deserve that, not after all we've done for you.”

“I haven't been ignoring anyone,” Thorin argued. “I'm the King. I have business to attend to – letters, documents, negotiations – important matters that I am responsible for since you two have yet to take responsibility for them either.”

Kili took a step back as he watched Fili's face turn a color he had never seen before. He knew better than anybody just how bad his brothers' temper could be when he was pushed too far and Thorin had just pushed Fili off the edge.

“Responsibility?” Fili roared. “Balin gives us lessons _every_ morning, wants our opinions on matters of state, has us pen letters to Thranduil. Dain has taken on the task to instruct us on the nobility and court life. You would know this if you actually showed up to breakfast once in a while! You're just looking for a fucking excuse to hole yourself up here and pout, all because Bilbo hasn't sent you a blasted letter! This is utterly ridiculous! And yet you call yourself a King! You're acting like a childish Prince of the Orocani Mountains!”

“I'm concerned for his safety! He's a friend to this kingdom and I would see no harm come to him.”

“Friend?” Kili snorted. “Cut the warg-shit and respect us enough to tell us the truth.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Again with the warg-shit. That bead declared your intentions to the Company. The only way you could have made it more public was if you had shouted it from the battlements.” Kili's annoyed look turned into a victorious smirk. “You're not sulking because he hasn't sent a letter. You're sulking because you think he rejected you.”

Thorin's murderous glare was answer enough.

“You're an idiot Uncle.” Thorin turned his glare back to Fili's triumphant face. “Just admit that you're in love with him.”

“I am not in love with him.” Fili rolled his eyes at the blatant lie, the blush on Thorin's face giving him away.

Kili sat back down in his chair and propped his feet back up. “No, you're not in love with him. You're _hopelessly_ in love him. Big difference.”

“And what do you know about love?” Thorin demanded to know from his youngest nephew. “You're barely an adult.”

The triumphant look was gone from Kili's face in an instant, replaced by one of longing and sorrow. “More than you know,” he said lowly and Fili knew just how deep of a chord Thorin had struck. Tauriel had disappeared after it had been made clear that Kili would survive his injuries from the battle, slipping off into the night while Kili had been asleep. He'd begged the healers attending him for her whereabouts, not understanding how she could have left without a word. Once he'd been well enough to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, he had even written to Thranduil, asking for help and promising him a chest of emeralds in return.

Thranduil had yet to reply.

That had been two months ago. Kili's smile had returned a few weeks after the battle, but Fili could still see the pain in his brothers' eyes whenever he thought someone wasn't looking. It had taken a while for Fili to wrap his mind around his brothers One being an elf, but Tauriel had never truly caused them any harm, save for ordering her guards to take his knives. He had sent letters to Thranduil as well, promising him a chest of gold in addition to his brother's chest of emeralds.

Like his brothers' letters, his had gone unanswered.

“Just tell Bilbo that you love him and be done with it.” With that Kili got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him hard enough to shake the chandelier. Fili and Thorin both winced, Thorin sitting down in defeat.

“You handled that spectacularly,” Fili commented dryly. "Truly, well done. Want to go rub some more salt in his wounds? Perhaps comment on how his father must have been an elf, for why else would he have stubble instead of a beard or be so talented with his archery?”

Thorin rubbed his face, a headache quickly forming from the chaos that had just happened. “Fili, sit down.” When Fili didn't budge, still glaring at his Uncle for his rude treatment of Kili, Thorin sighed and motioned to the empty chairs. “Please Fili just....sit.”

Knowing he had finally broken through whatever wall Thorin had put up, he did as requested.

“I'll talk to the Company tonight and apologize for my behavior. I'll talk to Kili once he's calmed down and apologize as well.”

“Good.” He sat back in his chair and watched his Uncle for a few minutes. Thorin didn't say anything, instead flicking at the dried bits of mud on his desk. “That was a low blow you struck with Kili.”

Thorin nodded stiffy. “I know.”

“An apology isn't going to fix this. Not with him.”

“I know.”

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

_Thwack_

He knocked another arrow, taking only a handful of seconds to aim and release it.

_Thwack_

He wished the sound was relaxing, but it wasn't. He didn't want to bury the arrow in a useless practice dummy. He wanted to bury it in his Uncles ass.

“But that's frowned upon,” he said in a nagging voice, knocking another arrow and letting it loose. “Stubborn, old, pain in my ass......ugh!”

He threw his bow down on the ground, tossing his quiver to the side as he drew his sword and starting hacking away at the dummy. Who said dwarves had healthy outlets anyway?

Giving a particularly vicious slash to the dummy's neck, he withdrew his sword and sent it's stuffed head flying halfway across the training grounds. Yelling in frustration, he tossed his sword aside and began to storm around the grounds, cursing and kicking at anything that was unlucky enough to be in his way.

Childish?

Maybe.

Did he care?

Nope.

“Mother was right,” he growled out. “Not a lick of sense in any of the Durin men.” He didn't care if he was included in it. _He_ could at least acknowledge when he was an idiot. His damn Uncle? Maybe when pigs flew.

He didn't care that his Uncle was mad at them about making him talk about Bilbo. He really didn't. Arguments like that had been a weekly occurrence back in the Blue Mountains. He and his brother had grown up making bets on who would win: Uncle or Amad. It only took a handful of times for them to learn that it was always Amad.

Uncle lashed out when he was afraid or angry. He knew that. Didn't make it hurt any less though. Thorin had struck a low blow and he was in no mood to hear an apology right now. Or to even see his Uncle for that matter. Maybe in a day or two, but not now.

He kicked a large rock that had the misfortune to be in his way, sending it sailing across the grounds only for it to crash into a stack of old weapons. He would have been lying to himself if he said the crashing sound wasn't somewhat satisfying.

“Was that really necessary?”

Kili didn't even look behind him as he continued his pacing. “Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“Does it matter?”

“Don' sass me.”

He ignored Dwalin, kicking another stone out of his way. He wasn't in the mood to talk about what had just happened.

“Come now lad, since when are you the silent type?” Dwalin looked around at the carnage Kili had wrought and raised an eyebrow. “Or one that treats your fathers' weapons in such a way?” He carefully picked up the family heirlooms and set them to rights, knowing Kili would regret his actions soon enough.

The mention of his father was what finally calmed the rolling storm in Kili, as he stopped his pacing and looked down at his feet. Clenching his fists as a faint memory floated around him, he took a deep breath and let it out as he looked up.

“Why is he like this?” He turned to look back at Dwalin, who looked as confused as Kili felt. “Dwalin?”

Dwalin rubbed his forehead, still not knowing what Thorin had said. “ _What_ did he say to you Kili? I can't explain anything if I don't know what happened.”

Kili snorted, but his face was anything but merry. “He said that I know nothing of love.”

Dwalin shook his head in disappointment. He'd known the lads plan to get Thorin talking again, but it had clearly backfired. Spectacularly.

“You've still heard nothing?” Dwalin asked, disbelief evident in his voice. He didn't understand how Thranduil could ignore Kili (and Fili's secret) requests. They were ones of friendship, ones that he'd personally seen Balin look over before the lads had sent them off. Balin had been immensely proud of the lads' words, had been so sure that Thranduil would reply to them within a week.

While Dwalin couldn't understand why Kili's One _had_ to be an elf, the girl had grown on him when he'd seen how carefully she'd tended to Kili when he'd been unconscious after the battle. She'd stared down more than one surly dwarf who had insinuated that she didn't belong there, including him. She'd gained his respect that day, which meant that as much as it baffled him, he would support Kili in his mission to find her.

Kili shook his head. “Nothing. Six letters. All unanswered.”

“Eight,” Dwalin quietly said to himself. Fili had sent off two letters, the first three weeks after Kili had sent his first one out, the second two weeks ago, when Kili had sent out his last letter.

“Why is he like this Dwalin?”

Dwalin shook his head as he sat down on a boulder, feeling every bit as old as he was. “I cannae tell you lad, for even I don't know. He's been like this since the Dragon first came.”

“He's always lashed out people?” Kili asked angrily. “Making them hurt simply because he is?”

He flinched but nodded. “It's just how he is. Your mother was the best at putting him back in his place, making sure he never did it when you two were children. As you grew though, it was harder to keep you from it.” He thought for a moment, thinking back to before the Dragon came. He'd been young, having only just joined the Guard. “I know it has something to do with that accursed Beast. He smiled easier before then, the weight of who he was and who he would be hadn't fully settled on his shoulders yet. After Erebor fell, he felt it more and eventually it made him a hard dwarf.” He looked at Kili, motioning to the boulder beside him. The lad took the hint and sat down, clasping his hands as he looked down at his boots.

“He was twenty-four when the dragon came. He and your grandfather led the charge against the Dragon, while I was charged with getting your mother and Uncle Frerin out of the Mountain. After we were forced from our home, life was......difficult, to put it lightly. So many died in the weeks following the attack, as we made our way towards the Blue Mountains. Men, women, children. Disease, cold, hunger. We're hardy, as Mahal made us, but even the strongest of us cannot hold off starvation. We had almost no supplies, even fewer blankets. Your mother fell ill at one point and it terrified us all. She had taken a tumble into a river while she and Frerin had been playing and the next morning she woke with a fever. I'd never seen your grandfather more beside himself, he carried Dis in a sling, keeping her warm with his own furs. Thorin gave up most of his rations to make sure she had enough to eat. Frerin blamed himself of course. Thorin would have to pull him close and hold him, reassuring him that it was nothing more than an accident.”

“Mother never told us,” Kili murmured, the full realization of what could have been sending shock through his body.

“Because like many of us, she chooses to keep those memories in the past, where they belong. The past is done and cannot be changed. Think of all that Thorin has lost. His grandmother, grandfather, father, his mother, and his brother. All in a span of thirty years. That is a great loss for one to suffer in such a short period of time.” He sighed as he slumped down. “I can't explain why your Uncle is the way he is. I can only tell you what we've been through. What I've seen. I can only tell you _why_ I think he does something and I believe he said that because he's lost so many that he's loved in his life, while you have lost very little.”

“I lost my father,” Kili replied bitterly, eyes flicking to his weapons, passed down from his fathers' father, to his father, to him. They were his most prized possessions.

“I didn't say you had lost nothing lad,” Dwalin reminded him. “I said you had lost less.”

“It still hurts the same.”

He nodded in agreement. “Aye, I know lad. I've lost as well. The pain never goes away, you just learn to deal with it.” He thought for a moment, then added, “It also doesn't help that the Line of Durin itself isn't known for being very.....touchy-feely. We're more inclined to bottle everything up and then lash out when provoked. Not our best trait, I'll admit, but it's definitely a family one.”

Kili was silent, mulling over everything that Dwalin had said to him.

“I think he's trying to protect you lad.”

Kili's head shot up, his glare and anger back in the span of a second. “Protect me? From what? _Loving_ someone?”

Dwalin shook his head. “From _losing_ someone that you love,” he gently corrected.

“So that justifies what he said to me?”

“Never. He shouldn't have said that to you, but I'm willing to bet Grasper that's why he said it.”  
“Why not Keeper?”

“Because I still need at least one ax to kill things with.”

Kili groaned and slid down the boulder to sit against it, pulling his knees up and burying his face in them. He loved his family, he _really_ did, but some days he just wanted to punch them in the face. Then again, maybe dealing with his family was better than dealing with Thranduil. He didn't understand why the elf king had refused to answer any of his letters. It wasn't like the Raven's hadn't returned. They had, with replies noticeably absent.

“Why do you think Thranduil hasn't responded yet?” Kili asked, his voice somewhat muffled.

Dwalin let out a sigh as he rubbed his face. “Who knows. That elf has always been...different than the others. He always has a hidden agenda, always plays to what gives him the most benefit.”

“I promised him a chest of emeralds, his favorite gems, whether he gave his help or not. I sent the chest two weeks after I sent the first letter, as a token of goodwill. I thought he might respond then, but I still heard nothing. They were part of my share of the treasure and I can't take any more from the treasury. The only ones left of my share aren't of the quality he likes. The rest belong to others and the White Gems of Lasgalen are Thorin's to give to Thranduil, not mine.”

Fili had sent off a chest of gold a week after he had sent off his first letter as well. So the elf was now substantially richer, but the lads had remained unanswered.

“Have you thought about traveling to Mirkwood yourself? Ask him in person?” Dwalin smiled as he thought of how much that would piss off Thorin. Old bastard deserved it after what he had said to Kili.

Kili nodded. “I have, but Uncle would never give me permission to do so.”

Dwalin shrugged. “Then go without it. Just make sure that you take Fili with you. It'd be political suicide for him to turn away both the Crown Prince and the third in line to the throne.”

“Meaning I'm not important enough for Thranduil to meet with?”

He flicked a pebble at Kili's head. “You know what I mean. He could try to turn you away, but if you take Fili with you, he _has_ to meet with you.” Kili rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. “You have any idea where Tauriel went?”

Kili shook his head. “Nothing. My only lead is Thranduil since she went with his jealous, idiot of a son to parts unknown. The other elves either knew nothing or didn't want to tell me.”

“Oh they knew something, they just didn't want to tell you,” Dwalin said, a scowl forming on his face. “I'm sure Thranduil ordered them to keep their mouths shut.”

Kili groaned, the beginnings of a plan starting to form in his head. “I'd never get past the Gate without my guards. Bastards are almost impossible to give the slip when Thorin sets them to watch us.”

“That's part of their job and they're doing it right,” Dwalin reminded him. “And of course they're hard to get rid of. I trained them myself to look after you and your brother.” He gave Kili a sidelong look. “You're clever, you'll find a way.”

“So you're telling me to mind my guards and not try to get rid of them but to get rid of them?”

Dwalin shrugged. “You'll do as you please. You're a Prince of Erebor after all.”

Flopping onto the ground with a huff, Kili swore in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”

“What part?”

He gave Dwalin an irritated look. “All of it. Thorin. Thranduil. Tauriel.”

“So what are you going to do about it all then?”

“Ever had so much to do you decide to take a nap?”

“That's not the answer to this lad.”

“Sure feels like it,” Kili mumbled.

“Let's pick another option.”

Kili rolled over and buried his face in the ground. “Tauriel is my mess to figure out. I don't know what to do about Thorin though. He'll be the way he is, no matter what Fili and I say to him. We're not exactly _allowed_ to punch him back into reality.”

Dwalin raised a bushy eyebrow at his young cousin. “Says who?”

“Pretty sure it's a law somewhere that hitting your king is a sign of treason.”

“Well, that never stopped me or your mother.”

Now _that_ got Kili to look up from where he was trying to dissolve into the ground. “How many times have you hit him? Dozens?”

Dwalin gave Kili a dry look, who just grinned at him in return. “Hundreds. Your Uncle is like a brother to me, but he's a fuckin' idiot most days. And your mother.....well you know how your mother is. Doesn't take shit from anyone, least of all our beloved King Under the Mountain.” Kili snorted as he put his head back down, taking a deep breath and letting it out as he tried to think. Dwalin nudged him with his boot. “Now, _get_ up and get _moving_ before your Uncle finds you.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's moving from Texas to Illinois next weekend? I'll make no promises for the next update, except that it most likely won't be until June.


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